


Cowboy and Ninjas

by Spinning_Mouse



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Explosions, Happy Ending, M/M, Slow Burn, i'll update tags when I know more, not really sure how to tag this, probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-15 05:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8044015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinning_Mouse/pseuds/Spinning_Mouse
Summary: How Jesse and Genji go from old friends to boyfriends. They'll probably suffer for it.





	1. It Begins

Jesse knew Overwatch’s Swiss base was supposed to be a marvel, fitted with the most recent technology and innovations to serve the largest peacekeeping organization in the world. It had been the only place he could really call home for the last few years, and the one of the only places he got to see the people he now considered family. He cared a lot about the place, though he wouldn’t admit it too readily.  


But did it have to be so damn _confusing?_  


He shouldn’t be getting lost just trying to find a practice range, but the place was so big, and he was away often enough that he never quite memorized the layout. It was even more difficult in the middle of the night with half the lights either dimmed or just off. Why couldn’t he get insomnia at a smaller base?  


After spending longer than he should have bumbling around, he found a familiar hallway, which led to a familiar elevator (for use by Overwatch agents only) that finally took him down to the practice ranges in the lower levels.  


Predictably, none of them were in use. He wasn’t in the mood for anything fancy, just something to blow off steam, so he wandered down to the smaller ranges meant for testing smaller weapons with limited effective range. They didn’t have as much technology behind them for moving targets and projected images either, but they worked just fine for a little target practice.  


That’s when he heard something crash, like metal slamming into metal. He pulled Peacekeeper without thinking, realizing a second later it wasn’t even loaded (Last time he walked around base with it loaded Ana had caught him and properly tanned his hide. She wasn’t even in the country right now, but he’d learned his lesson).  


He took a steadying breath. This was Overwatch’s main base, watched constantly by AI and Overwatch soldiers alike, on a secure level accessible only by Overwatch agents. There were cameras on him right now, he knew, so he reasoned if whoever, or whatever was watching didn’t think the source of that noise was about to put a bullet between his eyes, he was probably ok.  


Still, he wasn’t completely keen on walking around without knowing what was in the room with him. He knew a few ways to see if somebody was in the room with him, but decided to go with the simplest.  


“Anybody there?”  


Silence. It dragged on long enough to make Jesse feel ancy. He still had an unloaded Peacekeeper drawn, and was debating between taking a chance on loading it or hoping his bluff would hold up when an omnic stepped into his view.  


He started, but held Peacekeeper steady. It was hard not to stare. He’d heard of this guy, saved from near death by the magic of modern technology. Not an omnic, but a man with so much machinary in his body he may as well have been one. The majority of his body looked like a machine at this point, with only a partially exposed chest, an exposed left arm, and messy hair sticking out from a face mask that didn’t hide his shining red eyes. They turned on him. It was hard not to tense up even more at that look.  


“You make that noise?” Jesse asked cautiously. He hadn’t attacked him, so he risked holstering his weapon. No need to be rude, even if the guy stood staring him down with a death glare and his arms crossed. What was his name again? Reyes had mentioned it, hadn’t he?  


For a minute Jesse didn’t think he would answer at all. Jesse never dealt well with awkward silences, and was about to shoot his mouth off in annoyance when the guy surprised him by speaking. Not only that, but he put his hands together like he was about to pray and gave a small bow.  


“My apologies. I did not realize anybody else was here.”  


The apology caught him off guard. The voice sounded off too, just a little too robotic. It also had a heavy accent. It sounded east asian to him. He wanted to say Japanese, but didn’t have enough experience with the language to say for sure.  


“It’s fine, just, caught me off guard a little. I thought i was alone too, to be honest.”  


“I can leave if you wish.” He offered cautiously.  


“What? No, no, you’re fine, you don’t need to leave on my account.”  


Another uncomfortable silence fell between them. All Jesse wanted was to get in a little target practice, but just up and walking away felt rude.  


“Don’t think I caught your name, by the way.”  


The omnic hesitated, before finally offering “You may call me Genji.”  


“Wait,” he exclaimed, memory properly jogged, “Shit, Genji Shimada?” More silence. He could see the artificial muscles tensing up at the name and realized immediately he’d screwed up. Technically Genji’s existence was still supposed to be classified considering the work they’d put into him, but projects that big had trouble staying secret, especially when the project could get up and walk around and talk to people. The details were still secret though, so Jesse wasn’t sure where he’d gone wrong exactly. He hoped he could be tactful enough moving forward at least.  


“Sorry, that was kinda rude of me. I’ve heard a little about you, just hadn’t gotten a chance to meet you yet, so I didn’t recognize you on sight.”  


Genji continued his stoic silence, leaving Jesse to flail by himself.  


“Ang does good work, I know that. Lot of people wouldn’t be around without her. Damn good at what she does.”  


Jesse could feel himself start to sweat under Genji’s gaze.  


“So, uh, you’re down here late.”  


This was his last clean shirt, he’d kept putting laundry off, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.  


“Here to, uh, practice?”  


He’d have to wear this same shirt tomorrow. Somebody was bound to notice it was the same one he’d worn today, and to see the new stains he was probably creating. Maybe if he feigned illness he’d have an excuse to stay in his room all day.  


“What do you shoot with? I prefer Peacekeeper here myself.” He patted his revolver affectionately. “Most people say you can’t do any real damage with an old model like this, but, well, I ain’t most people.” He grinned. He was confident in his weapon at least.  


Genji’s head shifted slightly and Jesse realized he was probably looking at Peackeeper. Slowly, Genji held up his right arm. He flicked his wrist and little pieces of metal showed up between his fingers. It took Mccree a second to recognize the shuriken in the other man’s hand. They were definitely not big enough to make the noise Jesse had heard earlier, but he was treading thin ice as it was.  


“You good with those things, then?” He asked, genuinely confused.  


“I used to be.” Genji muttered. “I’m...struggling now. They don’t feel the same.” His voice grew as he spoke, quickly filling with anger and frustration. The red lights in his eyes flashed. Jesse didn’t know how to respond. Even with his limited knowledge on this guys situation, he knew it had been bad. You didn’t replace entire limbs on a whim.  


“Maybe you should talk to Ang about that, I’m sure she could help.”  


“I have. They perform tests, but none of it truly…” He growled in frustration and muttered something in Japanese. “Testing basic motor skills do not help me learn this body.”  


This guy knew how to make Jesse struggle for words, that was for sure. Jesse knew Angela meant well. She cared deeply, and was good at her job, but she got absorbed so easily, it didn’t surprise Jesse to hear her treating Genji like a lab rat to poke and prod at on occasion. He couldn’t imagine how Genji felt, not a true Overwatch agent, or even a real person in most people’s eyes, but a marvel of an experiment in the limits of medical technology. That he confided his frustration so quickly to a complete stranger did not say good things about Angela’s bedside manner. Jesse should probably mention something about that to her at some point.  


“Can’t say I know jack shit about this kind of stuff, but if you ever need help with something I can actually do, don’t be afraid to ask.” Jesse was a little surprised at his own offer, but didn’t try to take it back. It looked like Genji could use someone in his corner.  


“Well,” Jesse went to tip his hat before realizing he wasn’t wearing it, “i’ll let you get back to it. I’m gonna be shootin’ so I’ll go a few ranges down and give you some space.” He turned to leave.  


“Matte.” Genji called out behind him. Jesse didn’t know the word, but the tone was recognizable enough. He looked back at the cyborg.  


“You are an agent of Overwatch, correct?”  


“That’s right.” Jesse relied slowly, not sure where this was going.  


“So you know how to fight.”  


Jesse shrugged. “I can hold my own.”  


Genji’s eyes flicked away for a second before turning back to Jesse’s face.  


“I need to understand this new body, and I cannot do that with Dr. Ziegler’s tests. I need real action, real fighting.” He paused. With anybody else he’d guess they were a little nervous, but it was hard to tell with the visor hiding most of his facial expressions.  


“Do you think we could spar some time?” Genji rushed the last question out. Definitely nervous. Jesse was, again, surprised at the turn the conversation was taking.  


“Sure, anytime.” An image of Jesse explaining to Reyes how a wrestling match with a cyborg made him late to a debriefing filled his mind. “Well, anytime i’m not busy with something important.”  


“What about now?” The cyborg sounded insistent. Jesse just stared. The tone was abrupt and a little rude, and the suddenness of it all threw Jesse off. He couldn’t tell if there were cultural differences at work here, or if this guy was really just that desperate.  


A smile spread across Jesse’s face. Well, he’d wanted to burn a little energy, and this was as good a way as any.  


“Why not? Doubt anybody’s in the sparring rings either.”  


The sparring rings were a floor up from the shooting ranges, so Jesse headed for the elevator. Genji made almost no sound following him, but he walked just to the side of Jesse, staying in his peripheral vision.  


Genji spoke again as they waited for the elevator.  


“I...just realized, I do not even know your name.”  


“Mccree, Jesse Mccree. You can call me Mccree, or Jesse, don’t really matter to me.”  


“Muh-cree?” Genji repeated slowly. Jesse nodded. “That’s me.”  


Genji turned towards Jesse and gave another small bow. “It is a pleasure to meet you Mccree-san.”  


Jesse’s brows knitted in confusion. “San?”  


“Ah, it’s an honorific in my country. It roughly translates to ‘sir’ or ‘mister’.”  


Jesse barked out a laugh at that. “Well I sure as hell ain’t a sir.”  


“It’s a sign of respect where I’m from.”  


Jesse shrugged. He hoped he hadn’t accidentally offended the other man. “Hey, call me whatever works for you. Not much bothers me. Oh.” Jesse frowned, hit by a sudden realization. “Does that mean I should call you...Genji-san?” Genji made a small rasping sound. Jesse looked at him in alarm before his brain caught up. The sound had been somewhat altered like Genji’s voice, but if he looked past the robot tenor, he could swear Genji had just laughed.  


“Yes, you may call me Genji-san if you like.”  


OK, Genji was definitely amused. Jesse decided to let it go for now. He preferred the cyborg amused instead of angry. As they rode the elevator up a floor, he just hoped he wouldn’t regret this impromptu sparring match too much in the morning.

***

Mccree had to give it to the kid, he was a hell of an entertainer. Even though his own playlist rarely ventured outside of country and classic rock, he found himself swaying with the music. He bounced to a beat he could feel vibrating through the floor, even up in the nosebleed section.  


As impressive as the music was, the DJ, Lucio Correria Dos Santos, was even more so. He was full of energy, constantly moving, his enthusiasm never dying down. It was infectious enough to keep the crowd on their feet dancing along for the last two hours. Hell, he even flaunted his stolen technology, skating across the stage in his crossfade suit, though Mccree noticed a few key pieces (namely a certain sonic amplifier) were missing.  


No wonder Winston and Tracer were so eager to recruit him. It would probably be better if Tracer were here instead of him, but Winston had straight up refused. It was clear he didn’t want to send her back to Kings Row so soon after the assassination, though he claimed it was because of how recognizable she would be there. Mccree knew it was a blow to her pride, but he also knew there was nothing he could say to make it better. He made due with a hand on her shoulder, a silent reminder of his support.  


Static in his ear broke through his thoughts. He held his hand to his ear, trying, in vain, to block out some of the noise.  


“Sorry, didn’t catch that.”  


Genji’s voice drifted through Mccree’s comm, quiet and difficult to hear over the background noise, but just clear enough to understand.  


“Just checking in to see if you’re enjoying yourself.”  


“I’d enjoy myself a lot more with something to smoke.” He grumbled, patting his empty pockets absentmindedly. “Wouldn’t believe how many people are smoking at this thing, driving me insane. Never could find mine though. Pretty sure Ang got ‘em when I wasn’t looking.”  


“Would you like me to alert the authorities?” Genji tried to sound serious, but Mccree still caught the undercurrent of amusement.  


“Might have to. Crime of the damn century.”  


“You did tell her you were quitting.”  


“ _Cuttin’ back_ , not quitting cold turkey.”  


Genji laughed at his sullen tone. It was loud, even cutting through the noise of the concert. Mccree could almost see him, head thrown back, a steadying hand on his stomach. Mccree swore Genji had laughed more in the last three weeks Overwatch had been reunited than in all the years they’d worked together in the old days. It was a nice change, if a little disconcerting.  


When Genji finally finished laughing at Mccree’s expense, his tone turned questioning. “Do you hate the music that much?”  


“Naw, the music’s fine. It’s not my thing, but it’s not a problem. Just feel a bit like a pig in a parlor here. Out of place.” He quickly translated.  


“I quite like this music. Reminds me of the types of songs I listened to in my youth.” Genji sounded wistful. Mccree wasn’t sure how to respond. In the old days, Genji’s past was almost always off limits. Even positive memories seemed tainted for him. Mccree couldn’t remember ever hearing Genji speak so calmly about his past, without a hint of bitterness or anger. Genji claimed he was in a better place now, throwing around the name of some omnic monk who would supposedly be joining Overwatch any day now. Still, Mccree was wary. He didn’t want to get too comfortable and end up overstepping his bounds. He decided to play it safe for now, at least until he could suss out Genji’s new boundaries more thoroughly.  


“I said you could come if you wanted.”  


“No,” Genji responded immediately, “This is still a mission, and it is my duty to ensure it goes smoothly.”  


Mccree snorted. “You know you’re only here ‘cause Winston’s paranoid about any of us being alone.”  


“Can you blame him?”  


Mccree sighed. The attack on Gibraltar had shaken Winston more than the scientist was willing to admit, anyone could see that. Winston considered Overwatch his family, of course he would worry about them. Combine that with the stress of his new de facto leadership position…  


“ ‘Course not. But if he’s gonna be leading and making decisions, he has to learn to be more practical. We’re two of the heaviest hitters we’ve got right now, we don’t both need to be on a recruitment mission.”  


“But if something went wrong and one of us was left to handle it alone, we may end up losing one of our ‘heavy hitters’” Genji reasoned.  


“Or we lose both.”  


“Well, we are both already here, so I think that makes the whole argument a moot point.”  


“I’m just sayin’” Mccree said, determined to win his moot argument, “You don’t need to be running around rooftops alone. Throw on some clothes and catch the end of the show with me. Hell, there are enough omnics here you probably don’t even need the clothes.”  


Mccree hadn’t pushed Genji when he first opted out of the concert. Kings Row wasn’t a friendly place for omnics, and Genji was close enough in most people’s eyes he’d just attract the wrong kind of attention. Mccree had regretted the choice when he saw the crowd, though. Lucio had created a bubble of harmony here, with people and omnics of every type coexisting with no problems. Even if it was for just a few hours, it was damn impressive.  


Truthfully, the crowd was so diverse, Mccree probably could have come in his usual clothes without attracting too much attention. He’d left most of it behind, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. A raincoat hid Peackeeper which he had in a holster strapped to his side instead of its usual spot at his hip. The only parts of his outfit he kept were his hat and belt buckle. When Genji had asked, he claimed they were just a part of his southern charm. Genji had laughed and said something in Japanese Mccree was sure was some sort of insult.  


“I hardly look like your average omnic.” There was no censure in Genji’s voice, however. He maintained a light joking tone. “Plus, I’m not running across rooftops.”  


Mccree scoffed. “You’re practically allergic to the ground. You’re on top of something.”  


There was a moment of silence, then Genji huffed out a laugh. “Do you know the amount of self control is required to not make an innuendo out of a statement like that?”  


Mccree laughed loudly at that. If the concert wasn’t already so loud it probably would have startled the few people near him. Mccree had forgotten how much fun talking to Genji could be.  


Their conversation lulled after that, but it suited Mccree just fine. It was difficult to keep one up through the comm anyway. Still, he gave a little commentary every now and then, updating Genji on the antics of their target and his energetic fans. Genji had a quicker wit than Mccree today, with a joke for every comment or observation. Before he knew it, Lucio was saying (well, yelling) goodbye to the crowd and skating offstage. Mccree jerked up.  


“I think it’s over. Time to move in.”  


“Wait.” Genji cautioned. Mccree paused. He wasn’t sure why until Lucio skated back on stage to the crowd chanting ‘encore,’ and gave them exactly that. Genji chuckled at Mccree’s heavy sigh.  


Forty minutes later the DJ went off stage again. Stage lights dimmed and lights over the stairs brightened. Still, Mccree gave it another minute before making his move.  


“Alright, I think it’s _actually_ over this time.” Mccree muttered into the comm.  


“Good luck, my friend.”  


Genji’s voice was strangely solemn. It only added to Mccree’s increasingly active nerves. Recruitment had never been his specialty, and somehow he felt Blackwatch recruitment methods would not be considered acceptable in this particular instance.  


He wasn’t starting from scratch, at least. Winston and Tracer had been in contact with the DJ through email for a couple weeks now. Lucio had shown himself enthusiastic about the prospect, but understandably cautious. Mccree’s job was to convince him of their sincerity. Overwatch was really back, and it was desperate for help.  


Though he’d probably try to play down the desperate part.  


Getting backstage was the easy part, at least. Mccree flashed a backstage pass he’d swiped earlier and his most convincing smile, and he was through. The security was actually pretty skimpy, considering this guy had made an enemy of an international corporation with shady practices.  


Lucio was still hanging out just behind the stage, smiling and chatting with crew members with a towel around his neck and a water bottle in his hand. He hadn’t even removed his skates yet. Mccree eyed the blue metal armor covering Lucio’s legs and concluded there was no way that was comfortable to sit in.  


Now he just had to decide how to approach. The place was buzzing with all sorts of people running back and forth, so at least he didn’t stand out too much. People occasionally stopped to chat with the DJ, but rarely stayed for more than a couple of minutes. Mccree figured he could wander by, make an offhand comment, casually start a conversation-  


“Hey, nice hat!”  


It took Mccree a second to realize the comment was directed at him. Lucio was staring at his hat, a smile plastered on his face.  


_Or that_ , Mccree thought.  


He had the presence of mind to tip his hat in Lucio’s direction. He started towards him, waiting until he was close enough to be heard at normal volume.  


“Well thank you kindly.”  


Lucio laughed. “Oh man, you even sound like a cowboy. You’re just missing the spurs.” Mccree immediately regretted his clothing choice. If he’d known that was all he needed to get the kids attention, he’d have come with the whole getup.  


Mccree hooked his thumbs in his belt and spoke with an exaggerated drawl. “Hey now, what makes you think I ain’t a real cowboy?” He kept his tone light and amused, making sure it couldn’t be mistaken for real anger.  


“Wait, are you? Do cowboys even exist anymore? Man, that would be so cool!”  


How the hell did this kid sound so happy and excited all the time? It really was infectious. Mccree wasn’t even faking his smile. He opened his mouth to reply, hopefully with something witty, when his comm crackled in his ear. Could Genji have worse timing?  


“Mccree, I need backup.” Genji’s voice was calm and steady, but the words sent fear down his spine.  


Lucio had noticed his hesitation, his happy expression fading into one of confusion. Mccree feigned a look of surprise and pulled out his phone, barely glancing at the screen.  


“Ah shit, sorry, gotta take this.” He gave another tip of his hat with an apologetic smile before spinning around and walking away as fast as he could without coming off as too suspicious. He put the phone to his ear for the look of things, pressing a finger to his comm.  


“What happened?”  


Mccree stumbled when Genji responded, shock flooding his system. The second he was out of Lucio’s line of sight he broke into a run, not caring about appearances anymore.  


“I’ve found a bomb.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I don't know where this fic is going, if anywhere. So far my plan is  
> 1\. Mccree and Genji join up again in the recall  
> 2\. ??????????  
> 3.Romance?????????
> 
> Hopefully it's not too terrible for my first time posting something at least.


	2. I Thought We Had a Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bombs are not conducive to a fun night out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hey," I thought, "Lets start your first ever fic with action scenes, which you've never been good at writing. That's a good idea!"

_Swiss Headquarters, Several Years Ago_ /p>

McCree-san was late.

Genji stood alone, in one of the many sparring rooms, playing with the shuriken between his fingers. In the few months he’d known McCree they’d developed a schedule of sorts, sparring almost every night they were in the Swiss headquarters together. They always met late so they could have a room to themselves (Genji wasn’t a fan of spectators), but not so late McCree didn’t get any sleep. On the nights McCree’s internal clock was thrown by traveling they would kill some time together after their matches. Usually they retreated to a break room where McCree would turn on a tiny, ancient television and manage to hold an entire conversation with almost no input from Genji.

It should annoy him, the constant talking with that ridiculous drawl, but it never did. McCree’s company was...easy. No probing into his past, no questions about his body, no pitying looks. They might not be friends (Genji wasn’t sure he knew what that was anymore) but Genji could admit he enjoyed the other man’s company.

Now, though, he was angry at McCree. Three nights of nightmares in a row had left him irritable. He wanted to let out his anger, he wanted to fight. Even after multiple successful missions moving against the Shimada clan, Overwatch still handled him carefully, as if he were glass that could break at the slightest touch. They needed to let him out more, send him on more mission. What he was doing now wasn’t enough.

It was _never_ enough.

A sudden surge of anger made him throw his shuriken. In an instant they had flown across the room and imbedded themselves in floor mats propped up against the wall. One dug in so deep only a few centimeters were still visible. The other two disappeared completely.

That, of course, was the moment McCree chose to walk in. He was frowning when he stepped through the door. It started to twist into a smile at the sight of Genji, then fell when his eyes slid over to the holes in the mats.

“Sorry I’m late.” McCree said, walking over to the mats. “Reyes has been on my ass all day.” He tentatively gripped the visible shuriken. After he seemed satisfied with his grip he started pulling. Genji just watched. He knew he shouldn’t let McCree do this for him. He knew he should ask after McCree’s problems, but he couldn’t bring himself to. This wasn’t what he wanted. They weren’t friends, this wasn’t his problem or his place.

McCree was struggling. He started talking again while wiggling the shuriken experimentally.

“Had a mission that went sideways. We managed to complete it, but there was still a lot of fallout. A shitshow from start to finish.” A few more centimeters of the shuriken were showing now. McCree sighed.

“I admit, I fucked up, I deserve some of the shit he gave me, but I finished the mission in the end. Don’t that count for anything?” The shuriken finally pulled free. McCree held it out for Genji to take before he started digging for the second one.

It seemed like Genji’s bad mood was spreading. Suddenly, all the little details Genji’s eyes had seen but his brain had ignored came together. He realized just how tired McCree looked, shoulders slumped, bags under his eyes, clothes rumples. He didn’t even have his distinctive hat. When was the last time he slept?

“You look tired.” Genji observed. McCree grunted in response.

“I am. Reyes had me runnin’ ‘round hell’s half acre all damn day. Even missed dinner ‘cause of that ass.” He complained. He suddenly pulled his arm back, cursing creatively. A line of blood was trickling down his fingers. He cursed again and wiped his blood carelessly on his jeans. For the first time all day, anger receded from Genji’s mind, quickly replaced by shame. McCree’s day had been no better than Genji’s, but even tired and hungry, he was still here. The sparring had never been for McCree’s sake, though Genji was sure his hand-to-hand combat had gotten better. He felt his chest tighten with the guilt.

He grabbed McCree’s wrist, stopping him from reaching for the shuriken again.

“Allow me.”

McCree looked a little confused, but stepped back. Without having to worry about getting cut, pulling the shuriken free went much faster for him than it had for McCree.

“You should eat.” Genji said. McCree shook his head.

“Naw, I’ll be fine until we’re done here.”

Genji frowned. He wished McCree could see it. “It is not smart to push yourself after going so long without eating,” he chided. The words felt a little wrong in his mouth. He wasn’t used to being the responsible one.

McCree just scoffed. “I’ve been through a lot worse on a lot less. You don’t have to worry ‘bout me goin’ easy on ya.” Genji could hear the smile in his voice, but the words didn’t make him feel any better. If anything, they made him feel worse.

He pulled out the last of his shuriken, and with a flick of his wrist, returned them to their place inside his cybernetic arm. He came to a decision.

“Let's go to the kitchen,” Genji said, injecting a little false cheeriness into his voice. McCree raised his eyebrows.

“It’s fine Genji, I’m good.”

It was Genji’s turn to scoff. “Perhaps I just want a change of pace. Kicking your ass gets old sometimes, you know.”

McCree’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s how it is? You already forget? I’ve had you on the ground more than once, darlin’.”

“Are you sure you aren’t confusing reality with a dream, McCree-san?”

Finally, Genji had achieved the impossible. He’d left Jesse McCree speechless. Genji’s amusement was real now.

“Come on, let’s go to the kitchen. I’m sure there’s something full of salt and fat for you to eat.”

McCree sputtered. Still, he followed Genji out of the sparring room, his mood noticeably lighter. As they made their way to a kitchen, bantering and trading barbs, Genji realized, with almost no effort, his own mood had lifted as well.

He wondered if maybe he’d made a friend out of Jesse McCree after all.

***

_Present Day_

King’s Row put Genji on edge.

No amount of local charm could hide the anti-omnic graffiti on every other wall, or the forgotten posters of anti-omnic rhetoric littering the streets from rallies and protests. He hadn’t truly felt welcome anywhere but the Monastery for years, but places like this, so full of hate and anger, only served to highlight his differences.

Almost inevitably, he found himself perched on a wall (though he would never tell MCcree that) in front of Mondatta’s memorial. It was a massive statue, standing at least two stories tall, and shining where the gold finish reflected street lights. Genji doubted Mondatta would have approved of so much money and effort going towards a simple memorial for him, but Genji felt the message it tried to remind its viewers of, a message of peace and harmony, was worth it.

A small shrine was set up next to it, a picture of Mondatta in life surrounded by candles and flowers and kind notes left by those who followed the omnic monk’s teachings. Genji was surprised how clean it all was. He doubted the statue stayed safe from being defaced on its own. Perhaps there were people who took it upon themselves to scrub graffiti from the memorial and straighten out the offerings, keeping them carefully arranged around the picture. He wondered when these people came by. Was in a part of their normal route, on the way to a job or store? Did they go out of their way to come here, spending money on fuel for their car or taking time out of their day to get here on foot? Was there more than one? Did they talk to each other? Did they know they weren’t alone?

“Alright, I think it’s actually over this time.” McCree muttered through the comm. Genji resisted the urge to laugh at his frustration. There was a line between friendly banter and insulting, and McCree had a job to focus on.

“Good luck, my friend.”

The comm went silent. Genji was a little disappointed he didn’t leave it open. It would be nice to hear just how McCree, the middle aged cowboy, planned to recruit the twenty-six year old DJ. He would just have to be patient.

His mind drifted while he waited. He flicked out shuriken and rolled them around between his fingers for something to do. The street had gone empty this late at night, except for an employee from the upscale hotel across the street taking his smoking break outside the Hotel’s own clock tower. The guy was bouncing on his feet and constantly looking up and down the street, like a nervous tick. Genji wondered if he was waiting for a delivery or something.

As if on cue, a van pulled up, electric company logo on its side and ladders strapped to the top. The hotel employee waved it over while grinding his cigarette stub out on the ground, giving directions as the van backed up to...was that a door to a storage unit? A garage? A hotel probably wouldn’t have a single car garage, especially not set into a clock tower.

Genji found himself watching as the hotel employee opened the back doors of the van, glancing side to side nervously. A couple of men jumped out of the truck and started pulling open the storage unit door while a third stayed in the driver’s seat. None of them had the nervous energy of the hotel employee, but Genji still found himself scrutinizing their baggy jumpsuits and crowded toolbelts. There was something off about them. Or maybe he was overreacting. Maybe the hotel employee was always like this, or he just had a shitty boss.

Then he saw what they were loading onto the van. He recognized the way the pipes and wires coiled around it. He’d seen many devices like this before, though none this large.

The glowing blue timer on the side was a bit of a giveaway too.

He opened the comm. “McCree, I need backup.” Years of experience kept his voice steady. He heard McCree give a fumbling excuse to whoever he’d been talking to (The target? Not that it mattered now). A beat later he responded.

“What happened?”

“I’ve found a bomb.”

A sharp intake of breath, then an increase in background static.

“Where?” He demanded, breathing slightly harder than before. He’d started running.

“A block north of your location, the Alderworth Hotel. Four men loading it into a white work van, three likely armed.” Genji shifted while he spoke so he was crouched on his feet instead of sitting. He’d chosen this spot to stay out of sight, and so far it was still concealing him. The second he moved, though, his position would be exposed.

There were only four of them. Shuriken could take care of the driver, taking away any chance of escape. The two left who were armed would likely have drawn their weapons by then, but Genji could work with that. It was dark, and the time it would take them to move the driver’s body was more than enough for Genji to flank and finish them off with his katana. The hotel employee was the only uncertainty. He didn’t appear to be armed, and Genji didn’t want to needlessly cut down an unarmed man. He would just have to play it by ear.

McCree would be perfect for drawing their attention while Genji flanked, but by the time the cowboy got there, the target would likely be gone. He would have to act now.

“I’m going to-” He cut himself off. Something glinted in the corner of his eye across the street, several stories up.

He dove down behind the wall he’d been crouched on just as a shot rang out. He felt it tear through his right shoulder. Metal clattered behind him.

“Sniper!” He barked into the comm.

“I hear ya.” McCree responded. There was a faint rumbling in the background, but Genji ignored it. He focused on his shoulder. The armored plate had been torn off, but a few test movements proved it still functioned fine.

He could hear a commotion by the van. The sniper was giving them time to escape.

McCree had to be close, but he couldn’t afford to wait. He darted out from cover and, without stopping, flung his shuriken. Another bullet skimmed his side as he dove behind another wall, but the sound of shattering glass and the faint gurgling of a dying man proved his venture worthwhile. 

He wouldn’t be able to keep doing that. The sniper had to go if they wanted any chance of taking the payload, but focusing on the sniper was the perfect distraction the others needed to move their payload.

He heard an engine. For a moment he thought it was the van, ready to move, before realizing it was coming from the wrong direction. 

He wasn’t wearing his iconic hat, but it was impossible not to recognize the cowboy. Genji idly wondered who the motorcycle belonged to.

McCree skidded to a stop and dismounted in one motion, letting the motorcycle crash to the ground. He pulled his hat out from where it had been bunched up inside his jacket, smoothed it out, and returned it to its rightful spot.

“Going for the subtle approach, I see.” Genji observed.

“Hey, now, that’s what you’re for.” McCree winked. “You do your ninja thing, I’ll cover ya.”

Genji tipped an imaginary hat, earning a small laugh from McCree. Windows started to light up as McCree started firing. They wouldn’t have long before authorities showed up. Authorities who likely wouldn’t consider, “But we’re the good guys”, a legitimate excuse.

The Alderworth Hotel wrapped around the the entire street corner, leaving two exits by road. Mondatta’s memorial formed a traffic circle at one exit, where Genji had stationed himself for the last few hours. The other exit was framed by an arch topped with a pedestrian tunnel connecting the different parts of the hotel. The sniper had set up to the side of that arch, giving them a clear view of the payload and both entrances, perfect for keeping the path clear until the payload could be driven away.

But the hotel had a back wall that was easy enough for Genji to climb, the grips on his synthetic palms and soles keeping him anchored. There was a closed window at the top level, but Genji had little trouble breaking the lock as he yanked it open. There was nobody in the hall to hear him. Still, he made sure to completely shut off the already dim lights on his body.

It only took a few seconds to get to the raised tunnel, and that was only because of the evasive movements Genji made, ensuring nobody saw him. He glanced out of the tunnel windows at the scene below him. There was a splash of red by the van, but the continued sounds of firing guns suggested the other was still alive. The mysterious hotel employee was nowhere to be found.

Genji slowed as he approached the sniper’s position. He kept close to the wall, trying not to think too hard about what McCree might say if he saw him using potted plants to conceal himself.

The sniper was gone. He knew the second he saw the empty space where they should have been. He’d seen where the shots had come from and counted windows as he passed through the hallway. This was the right spot.

Had they moved their position? Had they seen him coming? Genji wasn’t sure how, considering the path he’d taken, but had to assume they’d known. If they knew that, they knew he had a partner keeping the payload stalled. A partner who wouldn’t be looking for a sniper that should have already been taken care of.

They hadn’t passed him, so they must have kept going. He could only think of one easily accessible spot that would give them the view they needed. Going through windows a person could take a path around the corner and straight past the clocktower, giving them the perfect view of anyone taking cover behind a wall across the street.

Genji started to run, but was interrupted after a couple of steps by a puff of purple gas engulfing his face. He reared back out of instinct. The cloud of mist stayed static except for a few wisps he pulled with him, though they quickly dissipated into the air. The rest of the cloud was much slower, but already Genji could see the edges twisting off into the surrounding air and fading away.

His hand flew to his mask, as if reassuring it was still there. He stood still for a beat, breathing in and out, testing. There was no hitch, no change in his breathing or any other part of his body, no nauseous feelings, nothing. He released a small sigh of relief. The filters in his mask were still working, then. He would need to remember to give his thanks to Angela. Again.

He ran straight through the purple haze this time, down the rest of the hall, through a window, across a ledge. The clock tower itself was the only thing in his way now. There was no window giving access inside, but there was a door. He could still hear McCree keeping busy down below, so they would probably be distracted enough he could-

“Push off!”

For a second the air pressure changed, pushing into his eardrums, then released all at once. There was a deep booming resonance, like speakers playing a bass note at full volume. The door in front of him crashed open, a person flying through and landing heavily on their back. 

It was a woman, scoped rifle gripped in her hands. Her hands tinged with blue.

Widowmaker, the Talon assassin.

_Kuso_

Lúcio skated through the ruined doorway, weapon pointed down at the assassin.He was outfitted in his full crossfade suit, upbeat electronic music exciting the air around him. He did a double take at Genji, a mistake Genji recognized a second too late. Genji rushed the sniper, but she was fast, flipping backwards and onto her feet before his blade could connect. She jumped back, firing her rifle wildly at them both.

The weapon’s firing rate was too fast. He didn’t even have time to attempt to deflect, not with Lúcio there, flinching down, looking for a good way out.

Well, technically, they were on a roof. There was one.

Genji barreled into the DJ, ignoring his startled shouts as he pulled them both off the roof. They were only a single story up, but Lúcio landed hard on his skates, falling forward onto his hands and knees. Genji rolled, jumping to his feet and spinning back towards Widowmaker, ready this time, but she was already gone. The street went silent.

Wait, silent?

“Doin’ alright there?” McCree watched them with a raised eyebrow, Peacekeeper holstered, left arm hanging limp at his side, right now pressed into his other, blood seeping out from under it and dripping to the ground. Genji felt his breath catch.

“ 'S fine,” McCree muttered, trying to shrug and wincing instead, “I’ll live.”

“The hell.” Lúcio muttered. He managed to get back on his feet, though he looked a little unsteady.

“The hell was that?” He repeated, glancing between McCree and Genji. “People are,” He looked at the bodies, clearly struggling with the sight, “People are dead. What-”

McCree cut him off. “Not nearly as bad as it could’ve been.” He walked around to the back of the van. After a moment’s hesitation Lúcio followed, though he kept throwing nervous glances at Genji, who trailed behind.

The men had managed to load the bomb, but McCree had kept them pinned behind their vehicle. The thing was huge, wrapped in red plastic and complicated piping and wires with a soft blue glow shining through the spaces in between. Something like this could take out multiple blocks at least, if not more. And it was still armed.

“ _Merda._ ” Lúcio whispered. “What do we do? Who do we call? How did you even know it was here?” He spoke frantically, eyes glued to the device.

“First things, first, we get the hell out of here.” He turned to Genji. “You mind.”

Genji gave a small nod. “Get in.” He ordered. McCree was starting to look pale.

The body of the original driver that sat slumped inside was unceremoniously dumped on the ground. Luckily, the man had left the key in the ignition before dying, saving Genji a hurried search through the man’s clothes. McCree dropped heavily into the passenger seat, with Lúcio hovering nearby. Genji had to stop himself from looking at McCree, ignoring the heavy feeling coiling in the pit of his stomach. Now was not the time, he couldn’t do anything right now. Now, all he could do was focus on the current task.

“You comin’?” McCree’s head was turned towards the musician.

“You’re just gonna leave? Just like that?” Lúcio’s expression was hard to read, but the surprise in his voice was clear enough.

“Only option we got. You in?”

Genji started the engine.

“You hearin’ me right now? You in or out, Beyoncé?”

Lúcio’s expression hardened, but instead of anger or frustration, Genji only saw determination. He quickly moved, squeezing behind the front seats, sitting in the small space in front of their new cargo. 

“Better not be an insult, Eastwood.”

McCree chuckled weakly. “Right back at ya.”

Sirens started up in the distance. Genji hit the gas a little too hard. McCree grunted at the sudden movement.

“I got you, man.” Lúcio said. He switched something on his suit and the music changed. The upbeat tune slowed down into something calmer, more melodic. It flowed through his body, calming him, syphoning away his newly formed aches and pains. 

McCree sighed. 

“Hell of a suit you got there.”

“It’s not a doctor, but it should take the edge off until we can get something more solid.” Lúcio explained. “So uh,” He cleared his throat, “If you aren’t calling anyone, what are you gonna do with…” he gestured behind him. “I mean it’s not gonna explode any second or anything, right?”

“Timer’s not even started yet.” McCree said. “And we got someone we can call. Just not necessarily someone official.”

“Oh.”

Lúcio started tapping his fingers against the metal encasing his legs. It was probably getting uncomfortable crouching in those things, but he wasn’t complaining.

“So...who are you guys exactly? And who were they?”

“Name’s McCree, Jesse McCree. Call me either, I don’t really care. The Ninja over there is Genji. We’re Overwatch. No idea ‘bout the other guys.”

Lúcio started and his fingers stilled. Genji could see his eyes going wide in the rearview mirror.

“Are you serious? You’re serious right now? Meu Deus. Is that what you were doing backstage? I knew I didn’t recognize you, and I mean the groups gotten kind of big, but I try to know all the people I’m working with, you know? I mean they do a lot for me and I knew I’d remember a cowboy-” 

Lúcio chattered away, mostly at McCree. Genji tuned him out, his eyes constantly flicking towards McCree.He was unnaturally still, his eyes half closed. They had set up at an old Overwatch base. It wasn’t a proper Watchpoint so much as it was a temporary safe house where agents stayed coming and going to and from missions. It was a place to hide and lay low, and as such, hadn’t been registered as owned by Overwatch when the organization was disbanded. Technically, Winston owned it under a pseudonym, along with a few other places around the world, but in reality it had been abandoned since Overwatch fell. McCree and Genji had spent the first night making it decently livable, and part of that was stocking it with biotics and first aid. McCree would need surgery, though. He had no idea if they’d been seen. It wasn’t hard to imagine someone snapping a picture from a window. If that was so, local hospitals wouldn’t be safe. Mercy could be there in a few hours, but there was no way to contact her until they were back to base.

Overwatch wasn’t exactly overflowing with resources right now, so McCree and Genji had been left with local comms. They weren’t very secure and they couldn’t connect with Athena back at the Watchpoint, but this mission was considered low-risk enough that it wouldn’t matter. They had a secure datapad that could connect with Athena for that very reason, but it was currently buried in McCree’s pack. Genji had watch him wrap it in his serape after changing to more casual clothes. 

“Just ‘cause I’m not gonna wear it doesn’t mean it can’t be useful.” He’d said with a smile. He said a lot of things with a smile. Genji remembered hating that when he first met the cowboy. He’d thought the man an idiot, a dog wagging his tail at anyone who would give him attention.

McCree wasn’t smiling now. Genji drove faster.

The drive only took a few minutes, even if those minutes dragged on. The safe house was inside an old, long-since abandoned church. It had been renovated to look less religious, stained glass windows replaced with normal opaque ones, pulpit removed to house a network of computers (that, despite having not been turned on for five years, still had a couple of peanut jars decorating the desks. Genji had decided to keep his distance). Pews had been replaced with bunks lining the walls. A back room meant for storage had been converted into a small kitchenette.

Genji drove around back to a garage extension added by Overwatch long ago. He was forced to park the vehicle so he could manually input a passcode for it. The door opened agonizingly slow.

It was a relief once they were inside and he could close the door behind him.

“Through there, medical supplies, white pack,” he looked Lúcio in the face and pointed to the door leading into the kitchenette. Lúcio immediately jumped out of the van and ran (well, skated) off. McCree started to move, but Genji motioned at him to stay put. 

“I will take care of this.” Genji walked away before McCree could argue. He passed Lúcio racing back to McCree with the first aid kit as he went into the main part of the building. McCree’s bag had been thrown carelessly onto his chosen bunk. At least it was easy to find. The serape was easy to find as well. There weren’t many things in the bag to begin with. McCree packed light.

He started up the datapad's connection while walking. Lúcio had gotten McCree out of the van and had him sitting in the middle of a biotic field, shirt off, while Lúcio did his best to tend to the wound. McCree’s eyes were completely closed now. His harsh breathing seemed to echo in the small space. It was all Genji could hear, thundering in his ears even when Athena finally connected. It took a few more seconds for the AI to connect him to Winston. Finally, he saw the scientist’s concerned face looking out at him.

“Genji? Is everything alright?”

“No. We’ve found an armed bomb and McCree was shot, he needs immediate medical attention. How soon can Dr. Ziegler arrive?”

Winston gaped. “I...one moment.” Winston disappeared from the screen. A minute later he reappeared, faced again pinched in concern. “I’ve informed her of the situation, she’s on her way. ETA two hours.”

“Two hours?”

“It’s the best we can do, Genji.” Winston sounded apologetic. Genji forced himself to stay calm, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He was not angry at Winston.

“I do not know how to disarm a bomb. I was hoping you do.”

“Uh, maybe? If I can’t, Athena can.” He added hurriedly. “I need an image though. Or, several.”

Genji complied, turning the datapad to face the bomb. Winston made a strangled sound at the sight. 

“Who would do this?” The scientist muttered. Genji said nothing. Winston started directing him, getting him to move the camera to get different views, having him take pictures of anything of interest for Athena to study. It was a surprisingly difficult task in the confines of the van, but he made due. Several tense minutes passed where the only sound was Winston muttering and grunting to himself.

“Alright,” The scientist finally sighed, “I think I’ve got a plan.”

He had Genji set the data pad up off to the side, leaving both his hands free. He slowed his breathing, forcing his heart to stay slow and steady. He would not let fear get the better of him now.

Disarming a bomb the size of a dairy cow is, as it turns out, a complicated process. Winston’s constant backtracking did nothing for Genji’s nerves, either. 

“Isn’t there supposed to be a red wire?” He muttered at one point, letting a little of his frustration out.

“Lots of red wires, probably. Don’t cut them though. I think.”

Genji took a deep breath.

It didn’t take as long as he expected it too. Winston reminded him the thing wasn’t safe, they’d just disconnected a few key elements, namely its means of detonation. They still needed to handle it properly, and they could only do that back at Watchpoint Gibraltar. The transport Mercy would by flying on would double as transport for the defunct bomb. The idea of flying back to Gibraltar on top of a bomb didn’t sit well with Genji, but he said nothing. Winston stayed on long enough to confirm Mercy was on her way, then disconnected. 

Lúcio poked his head around the van, eyeing it’s cargo.

“Sooooo, are we about to blow up, or what?”

“We’re fine.” He didn’t add the _for now_. “How is McCree?”

“Resting. Didn’t look like he had any sort of concussion, and there’s nothing else I can do. He needs surgery.” Lúcio looked straight at Genji, trying to chide him with his tone.

“Extraction is on its way, to pick up me, McCree, and our new friend.” He gestured towards the bomb, the end of his sentence laden with sarcasm. “He will receive proper medical attention within a few hours.”

“Right, okay, that’s good.” Lúcio was clearly relieved. He looked away from Genji again, but glanced back a few times, as if he had something to say, but wasn’t sure how to say it. Genji tilted his head, an invitation. Lúcio smiled.

“Overwatch, huh?”

***

“Our first new recruit.” Winston beamed through the datapad. “This is great!”

Genji nodded. Lúcio had, as expected, been more than enthusiastic about the whole thing. Genji had called Winston back just so Lúcio had someone to direct his endless questions at. Apparently, their unexpected mission had left a mark on the musician. 

Genji sat in the transport now, watching the sleeping form of McCree. Dr. Ziegler stood over him, her staff in hand, keeping the cowboy going until they got back to proper facilities. He’d lost a lot of blood, but the Mercy had assured him the constant flood of biotics had kept it from getting to truly dangerous levels. She was confident McCree would be fine. Genji accepted her at her word. If anyone could save McCree, it was her.

Lúcio had gone gone back to his own hotel. He’d said something about his people missing him by now, but made plans with Winston before leaving. Lúcio would be a full member of the new Overwatch within two weeks, three at the most. Despite the trouble, they’d accomplished their original objective. 

“He did well.” Genji said, “And truth be told, I am not sure McCree would be here without him. I think he’ll be a good addition to the team.”

“Good to know.” Winston took on a more serious tone. “I’m glad you two are ok. I still can’t believe what happened. Widowmaker showing up in the same place a second time? Talon has done terrible things, but now they’re just bombing city centers? What would be the point?”

“I wish I knew.”

“Me too.” Winston huffed. “We won’t find out by wishing, though. I think me and Athena have some work to do. Talk to you later, Genji.”

When the call ended Genji leaned back into his seat. He was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to get a little sleep, but every time he closed his eyes, he could do nothing but focus on McCree’s labored breathing. Every irregularity, every hitch opened his eyes again.

Finally he gave up and let himself watch the other man’s pale face for the rest of the flight. He didn’t notice the dents he was leaving along the edges of his datapad until long after they landed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Widowmakers cause me endless trouble on Kings Row. I try to out snipe them but it rarely works out for me.
> 
> The fact that anyone liked the first chapter is still baffling to me (But seriously awesome and appreciated!). Now there are Expectations. Lets hope I didn't ruin them already with this chapter, lol.


	3. The Heart of a Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When will my ability to write return from the war?

Genji helped Winston unload the bomb. They took it to an underground structure originally designed to house Overwatch weapons, making it one of the more secure places on base. Winston hoped the placement would also help contain the damage if the bomb were to explode. 

“Did we not deactivate it?” Genji asked as they locked the heavy doors behind them, irritation spilling into his words. The image of Angela rushing a bloody McCree off the landing pad was stuck in his mind, coloring everything red.

“We disconnected it from any remote triggers, but the core is still an unstable explosive substance. Usually the best way to get rid of bombs is simply a controlled detonation, but with one of this size…” He cleared his throat. “Well, I'll know more when I've had time to study it. It has an odd construction.”

“Odd?” Genji followed as the scientist began walking back towards his lab. 

“Yeah. Some of the materials on the inside look worn, some of the metal rusted, like it was picked up from a junkyard. The kind of construction you'd expect from someone making it in their garage.”

“It did not look like that to me.” Genji said slowly, “It almost looked as if it had been made brand new.” They passed through the doors into the lower level of Winston’s lab while they spoke.

Winston nodded. “Only the best for Talon.” He snorted. “That's what makes it so weird, like two totally different people worked on it separately.” He paused to clamber up the side of the stairs to his lab, foregoing the stairs themselves out of habit. Genji climbed the wall to avoid falling behind, though his synthetic soles struggled to find purchase on the smooth walls. Winston continued talking without missing a beat.

“I mean the whole thing is weird. Talon doesn't cause destruction for destruction’s sake, they do things for a reason. Not good reasons, but still.” He dropped heavily into into a chair facing his wall of monitors. “What was the point of this?”

Genji leaned against the edge of Winston’s desk. He sees a few specks of blood on his hands as he crosses his arms. After a moment of confusion he belatedly realizes it must be from McCree.

“Do you think it is related to Mondatta’s assassination?” Genji asked. “It's too much of a coincidence to plan two public acts of murder in the same place with the same agent only weeks apart. In fact, it's so idiotic I have trouble believing Talon would do it.”

Winston chuckled weakly. “Agreed. The way the bomb was made and the way they were trying to execute this plan - it's starting to feel like they never intended for it to happen like this.”

Genji hummed. “A last minute change of plan? It would explain a lot.”

“Too bad you guys lost that last man. Not that you did a bad job,” he hurriedly added, “but he might have been our only real lead.”

Genji cocked his head. “I don't suppose Athena could remotely access the hotel security cameras to at least get a clear image of his face?”

“The security footage from the hotel has already been secured by the local authorities and wiped from the original hard drives.” The AI chimed in. One of the screens lit up, showing a British news station. An anchor woman spoke with King’s Row in the background, London police milling about and shooing curious bystanders away from the caution tape around the scene. Genji didn’t have to hear the actual broadcast to know what was being said.

“There are other ways to find a person.” Genji insisted. “I did not get a clear view of his face close up, but I was the only one to see him. Combined with my training, I am best suited to track him.”

Winston frowned. “I don't like the idea of sending you alone after an agent of Talon, especially since you're injured.”

An image of metal lying abandoned on the pavement flashed through Genji’s mind. In the excitement of the fight he’d forgotten to pick up his damaged armor piece, leaving the exposed shoulder vulnerable. He cursed himself mentally for his carelessness.

He rolled the offending shoulder experimentally. It felt perfectly fine, if conspicuously light.

“The damage is minor. It hasn't affected my ability to fight.”

Winston was shaking his head before Genji even finished.

“You just got back, you're injured, and McCree is critical. I'm not gonna risk it.”

Genji contemplated arguing his point, but eventually decided against it. He was agitated and distracted while Winston was maintaining a level head and calm disposition, and logically he knew Talon would have gotten to their man long before he could. It was doubtful this man was even still alive after such a blunder. He conceded the point with a small bow of his head.

“I understand. However, we will need a plan of attack if Talon is to continue to be a threat. We do not want to be caught off guard.”

“Believe me, I have no intention of letting that happen.” Winston grimaced, no doubt remembering his last encounters with the terrorist organization. The scientist turned towards his computers as he spoke, fingers starting to fly across the specially designed keyboard. Genji straightened, sensing an end to the conversation.

“I will leave you to your work then. Do not hesitate to ask for my assistance if you need it.”

“Thanks Genji.” Winston’s eyes were already focused on his screens, mouth tugging into a frown as he started working. 

Genji left the way he came, jumping over the railing and exiting out the bottom floor. With nowhere else to go, he retreated to his room. He used it for little more than two or three hours of sleep a night, and it showed. The walls were a bland beige, the floor hard and unforgiving without even a rug to soften it. There was no furniture besides the provided bed and dresser, and no decoration besides a single picture laying on the dresser, a copy of the framed original in his room in the monastery. It was the only real evidence anyone lived in this space at all.

His small pack from the mission sat just outside the door. Athena must have had one of Torbjorn's bots bring it here. Apparently Genji had been too distracted to remember it himself.

That seemed to be happening a lot lately.

He stepped into the small personal bathroom to scrub the dried blood off his hands. It came off his armor easily but stuck more stubbornly to the CNT of his hands and forearms. Synthetic nerves registered the uncomfortable sensation of the course sponge he’d been forced to use when normal scrubbing didn’t work. He tried to make it pass as quickly as possible. 

There were other parts of his armor that should probably be cleaned, but he considered them a low priority. His weapons came first. He grabbed a small box from his dresser and unclipped both his sheaths, laying all three next to each other on the floor. He settled onto the ground and began the familiar ritual of caring for his blades with special cloths and oils he would let nobody else touch. His katana took the longest as he carefully wiped down the blade and checked and tested the edge. 

Logically he knew this was pointless. He hadn't done anything that could have caused damage, he just...didn't know what else to do. The ritual was calming, almost like a form of meditation. It was something to do that could help ease the constant anxiety humming in the back of his mind. 

It could only last so long, though, and by the time he was putting away his supplies, he found that only two hours had passed since they'd landed. 

“Athena?” 

The response was immediate. “Yes, Agent Genji?” 

“Do you know McCree’s status?” 

A moment of silence as the AI searched for an answer.

“Agent McCree is still in surgery with Dr. Ziegler.”

Genji stood and reattached his weapons.“Thank you, Athena. Please alert me when his status changes.”

“Of course.”

He stepped out of his room and carefully closed the door behind him. He began walking with no real destination in mind, only a desire to pass time. The idea of training was somewhat appealing. The sheer cliffs hugging the edges of the base were always a good spot to test his endurance, and just fun to navigate in general.

Halfway down the hall a glint caught his eye, bringing him to a halt. His eyes found the golden symbol of McCree’s hat dully reflecting fluorescent lights from the floor where it lay forlornly, in front of what Genji realizes was McCree’s door. Most likely it had been brought back by Athena as well. 

Carefully, he picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It was remarkably clean, showing no signs of the previous firefight, though the tears along the worn brim were pretty good evidence this wasn't always the case.

He couldn’t bring himself to put it back down. It swung at his side through the empty halls of the base. Even as he climbed the dusty brown rocks outside the base it found a temporary home home on his head. The few teasing rays of morning light weren't enough for human eyes to see more than vague outlines, but the built in night vision of his visor made that no obstacle at all.

There was an outcropping he'd found long ago, the very first time he’d come to this base years ago, that gave a broad view of the surrounding structures and the dark ocean stretching into the horizon. It was nearly impossible to get to without some sort of climbing equipment for most people. Only bots had ever been able to manage the climb before. A perfect spot to be alone.

He was pleased to find the spot relatively unchanged, including the single scraggly bush that had made it’s home here. He sat near the edge, legs crossed, and reached up to unlatch his visor, connections snapping apart at his touch. He laid it in his lap and carefully balanced McCree’s hat on top of it, hand resting on the brim to hold it steady against the breeze. 

He took a deep breath. The air was heavy with the smell of the ocean, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Water lapped gently against the rocks below, the sea flat and calm before him. A couple of specks on the water turned into dark outlines of fishing boats. A blood red glow lined the edges of the horizon, the beginnings of a promising sunrise. Even now, in the near darkness, the whole picture was more beautiful than he remembered. He never could appreciate these sort of things before.

He closed his eyes and raised his free hand to be level with his chest, two fingers pointing towards his chin while the rest curled into his hand. A familiar posture for a familiar routine. He slowed his breath and let his stray thoughts fall away as he slipped into meditation, the well loved Stetson in his lap the only thing grounding him in reality, even if he gripped it with the conviction of faith.

***

Genji twisted the brim of the Stetson in his hands as he walked, careful not to damage it. Despite his worries meditation had kept the worst of it under control, helping him stay calm and reminding him that his trust in Dr. Ziegler far outweighed his fear. 

It was almost midday now as he made his way to the clinic. Torbjorn and Winston had both all but locked themselves in their workspaces, leaving the base unnaturally quiet. It was a complex designed to house a few dozen agents on a permanent basis, with room for another dozen transient agents passing through or re supplying. The five of them couldn't hope to fill that kind of void, especially when three of them almost never left their offices and a fourth was probably still unconscious. He wondered if it would ever see such activity again.

To his relief, he found Dr. Ziegler in her office. Any sort of hospital, even her clinic, brought with it a sense of unease. Too many hours spent in stark white rooms being poked and prodded with unfeeling and unforgiving hands.

Angela held McCree’s prosthetic arm in her hands, slowly turning it over and studying it with a furrowed brow. The bullet had gone straight through the limb, entering through the right eye of the painted white skull. 

_Deadeye_. Genji quickly shook that thought, and any implications, from his mind.

“Doctor?”

She looked up with a start. “Oh, Genji! I didn’t hear you come in.” Every inch of her radiated exhaustion.

“I get that a lot.” He tilted his head. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I was a little busy.” She gently set McCree’s arm down on her desk.

“How is he?”

“He’s stable.” She started to get up, movements slow. Genji instinctively moved closer, but she waved him off with an impatient hand. “He was lucky the damage wasn’t too severe. The bullet largely hit muscle and fat, so there was no real damage to his organs. The biggest concern was blood loss and infection, but Mr. Correria did a good job keeping him alive until I got there.” Her voice turned a little wistful. “I would love to get a look at that crossfade suit of his. It’s genius really, even if it isn’t the most effective method.”

Genji released a breath he hadn’t even realize he’d been holding. His hands, which had still been worrying the brim of McCree’s hat, stilled. 

“That is good to hear.”

She nodded, then gestured to the hat in Genji’s hands.

“Is that your get well gift?”

Genji chuckled. “It’s only right I return it. I’m not sure he can truly function without it.” 

That got a smile from the tired doctor, though it faded quickly as her eyes drifted back to the busted prosthetic. “If only fixing this were so simple.”

“Is it so badly damaged?”

She huffed. “If it were up to me, we would scrap the entire thing and get him a prosthetic that isn’t almost a decade out of date. But that could take weeks or even months though, and money we don’t really have. Between me and Torbjorn we should have it in working order in one or two weeks at least.” 

Genji leaned back slightly, a physical show of surprise in absence of a facial expression. “McCree will not be happy with that.”

“He will have to manage.” She sighed wearily and rubbed her temples.

“You need to rest, Dr. Ziegler.” he said gently. “You are not good to anyone if you cannot stay on your feet. I’m sure Athena will alert you if something needs your attention.”

Dr. Ziegler didn’t reply at first. She picked up a data pad and scanned it for a few moments.

“I’m sure she would,” She finally admitted, glancing up at Genji, “But I would prefer to wait until Jesse is awake at the very least.”

“Do you know when that will be?” He asked.

“Well, if this is a good indication,” She gently tapped the data pad with a fingernail, “Any minute now.”

She brushed past him and into the main clinic. Despite his personal reluctance, Genji was quick to follow. As expected, the harsh white of the walls and ceiling created a pit of unease in his stomach, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Whatever Dr. Ziegler had seen on her data pad had been slightly inaccurate if McCree’s puzzled expression was any indication. His head turned at the sound of their footsteps, eyes sliding from the doctor to Genji. 

“Yo.” He said as they approached. His drawl dragged out the vowel. Genji smiled.

“Howdy.” He replied, suddenly wishing he’d thought to put the hat on. Angela rolled her eyes. 

“You’re awake already? How are you feeling, Jesse?” Dr. Ziegler asked as she began giving McCree a once over.

“Ta be honest doc,” he drawled, his accent more pronounced than usual, the words slightly slurred, “A bit like I got shot.” He looked down at his missing limb. “Think I'm missin’ an arm too.”

“You still have your hat.” Genji chirped, holding up the item as evidence. McCree nodded in appreciation. 

“Yer a real pleasure, Genji-kun.” He paused. “Treasure I mean.” Another pause. “Hell, maybe both. Feel like I can't think straight. How long I been out?” 

Genji was too busy choking back a laugh to answer properly, so Dr. Ziegler stepped in.

“Around twelve hours, which isn't nearly enough time to recover, so don't even think of getting up yet.” She scolded pre emptively. 

“Not sure I could if I wanted to.” McCree muttered. “ ‘Preciate it by the way,” he said, turning his head to Dr. Ziegler, “wouldn't be here without ya. You've saved my ass ten times over.”

“Eleven.” She sniffed. 

McCree raised his eyebrows in surprise, then chuckled. “Right, my mistake.”

“And that's not counting the non fatal injuries I've treated,” she added, trying and failing to sound stern. “At least your vitals are looking good.” She muttered, more to herself than anything.

“We all owe her for the work she does.” Genji mused in a much more serious tone. Dr. Ziegler looked embarrassed at the compliment and focused on the screen of her data pad again. Genji gently laid McCree’s hat on the nearby countertop. 

McCree watched him with eyes too sharp for a man loopy on whatever drugs Angela was pumping into his system. “Yer shoulder.” He grunted. Genji stared at him in confusion for a moment before remembering. 

“Ah, this.” He patted the exposed weave of wires on his left shoulder. He'd been too caught up in his worry for McCree to even think about it.

“The damage is minor. I am not too concerned.” He shrugged. Dr. Ziegler was studying him now, a look of concern matching the expression on McCree’s face as if she had just noticed the damage. As tired as she was, perhaps she had.

“I saw that earlier but it completely slipped my mind.” She shook her head. “Do you have the missing piece?” She asked. He shifted uneasily. 

“No, I do not. It was lost in the confusion of the fight.” Again, he cursed his rashness on the battlefield. A mistake he would not make again.

“It may take some time to replace it.” She warned, “You should be more careful.”

“I will manage.” He replied cheerfully, parroting her earlier words back at her. 

“Must of been a good sniper to get you like that.” McCree observed. Genji nodded absentmindedly in agreement. 

“She did not make it easy.”

“She? So you got her?”

“No, unfortunately she escaped.”

Dr. Ziegler butted in before McCree could continue the conversation. “Is now really the time for this discussion?”

“My apologies Dr. Ziegler.” Genji bowed his head. “I should go speak with Winston anyway. I will leave you to your work.”

“I didn’t say- oh well, if you’re leaving, could you do me a favor and take McCree’s prosthetic up to Torbjorn? He already knows what to do, I’ve sent him instructions.” Dr. Ziegler asked.

“Of course.”

McCree raised his hand and pointed at Genji, face serious. “You best be careful with it.”

“Of course.” Genji repeated, but with much more amusement. 

***

A McCree without his left arm, as it turns out, makes a grumpy McCree.

He was cheerful when Dr. Ziegler let him out of the clinic the next day, but it didn’t last long. The frustration of being short a limb got to him, and it showed in his day to day actions. After a particularly disastrous night he stopped trying to cook, relying much more heavily on the microwave and good will of his fellow agents than usual. He switched to simple t-shirts and occasionally sweat pants instead of his usual chaps and spurs, even forgoing the serape more often than not. It all put him in a perpetually in a sour mood, though to his credit, he did his best to keep it from affecting the others. This method, though, had a limited rate of success. 

Nearly a week later, Genji cornered him in the hallway outside the kitchen one night after dinner. McCree looked almost normal today, sporting one of his button up collared shirts and a pair of jeans with his boots, though the spurs and serape were missing. Even the belt buckle had been left behind.

McCree cocked an eyebrow.

“Need something partner?”

“A little of your time. Follow me.”

“Alright.” He said, drawing the word out with a wary inflection. He followed Genji through the base, his boots echoing loudly in the quiet spaces compared to the soft thumps of Genji’s synthetic soles. 

It didn’t take long for McCree to speak up. “Startin’ to feel like the part where the murderer starts picking us off one by one. Bein’ the charming fellow I am, I’m probably top of the list.”

Genji smiled under his mask. “Well I have excellent hearing, so you don’t need to worry about your safety with me, McCree.” McCree chuckled, the first sign of levity from him in days.

“You always did have my back.” 

Genji’s steps faltered at the fondness in McCree’s voice. He felt like he should say something, preferably something wry and witty, but his mind drew a blank. He could only move forward and hope the silence was only uncomfortable on his part.

A few twists and turns later and they stood in the doorway of a dark room. The night vision of Genji’s visor flicked on automatically, but he manually flicked it off, brightening the lights on his own body while he waited for the room’s lights to respond to their presence. 

“Scratch what I said before. This is the part where you reveal you’re the killer, right?” Despite his words McCree stepped into the room without hesitation, apparently not bothered by the darkness. 

“If I wanted to kill you,” Genji said as the lights finally flickered on, “I would not need to go to such drastic lengths. An unexpected blade from behind would be much simpler.”

“Fair enough.” McCree pushed his hat up and scanned the room. “The old rec room?”

Genji figured the TV taking up half a wall in front of an old couch was a dead giveaway. The room didn’t resemble it’s old self anymore, with most of its furniture either gone or covered in sheets and pushed haphazardly up against the wall. They had all taken part in organizing the base since the recall, and Genji had been the one to suggest getting the rec room in working order again. Winston was too used to spending time in his lab or at his desk to consider it necessary, but had agreed it would be nice for the team to have a common area to hang out in.

“You have been...stressed, lately. I thought perhaps a night off would be beneficial.”

“Not like I’ve been doin’ anything I need a break from.” McCree grunted. He breathed out through his nose and fixed a smile on his face. “Still, ain’t you supposed to take me out to dinner before the movie?”

Genji barked out a laugh and ignored the sudden swirl of discomfort in his stomach, and not for the reason he would expect.

“You just had dinner,” he pointed out, “But perhaps next time.” Genji turned to face McCree properly. He had another reason for getting the gunslinger alone, one he had no more excuses to continue putting off.

“First, there is something I should have said the moment we saw each other again.”

McCree eyed him warily. He maintained his casual pose but Genji didn’t miss the tension in his muscles. Genji removed his visor and placed it on the coffee table between the couch and tv. McCree’s eyes flashed, but whatever his reaction was to seeing Genji’s face for the first time in so many years, it passed too quickly to see clearly. It was a strange feeling to have the air of the room flowing directly on his skin. It felt unusually cool and crisp without the filter of his visor. 

“I wronged you several years ago when I left Overwatch. While I do not regret leaving, I regret how I did it. You were a good friend to me then and now, and you deserved better than that.”

Genji held his arms at his side and bowed deeply at the waist.

“ _Hontou ni gomen nasai._ I hope you can forgive me.”

McCree cleared his throat. “That, that was years ago. I’d be a hell of a hypocrite if I held somethin' like that against you. ‘Course I forgive you.” His voice was gruff, hiding some emotion Genji couldn’t quite place. He straightened and tried to look McCree in the eye but the gunslinger had pulled the brim of his hat down, an effective if somewhat juvenile way of covering his expression. Genji of all people knew forgiveness was never so simple as a single apology, but this still didn't sit right with him. He tried to speak, but McCree was quick to cut him off.

“So, you said something about a movie?”

Genji frowned. He breathed through his nose and let the subject change pass, doubting that forcing the issue now would actually help. He forced some lightness in his tone, determined to not let the night be completely ruined by his failed apology. 

“I didn't, actually. And it’s not a movie, it’s a TV show. I thought of you instantly when I saw it.”

“Yeah?” McCree flopped onto the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. Genji joined him, dropping next to the cowboy with his legs crossed. In one of his conversations with Winston he’d been able to reconnect his visor to Athena’s systems, at least while on base. He reached down to use his visor to switch on the TV, earning a snort from McCree. 

“Show off.”

The show’s intro started, a song with a western twang playing as images of spaceships flew across the screen. McCree’s eyebrows furrowed. 

“Sci fi made you think of me?”

“A space western.” Genji corrected. “A remake of an old show, if I understand correctly.” 

“Space western? Well, sounds like its got potential at least.”

“Oh, so little trust.”

McCree made a noncommittal noise and they both fell silent with only the occasional comment. McCree, predictably, was instantly drawn to the roguish main character, chortling at his cheeky humor. Genji latched on to the first mate, giving McCree not so subtle side eye when she grounded the captain and reigned in his more ridiculous fancies, which McCree responded to with side eye of his own. They both agreed they needed to get Lena toy dinosaurs. 

They didn’t get up after the first episode, or the second. McCree started slouching in his seat, eyes fluttering closed and snapping open again as the night wore on. Genji felt exhaustion far less keenly, but eventually even he had trouble focusing on the screen. 

McCree slowly slumped into Genji as he lost the fight with consciousness, his head landing on Genji’s shoulder and knocking his hat askew. Using his free hand Genji carefully removed the hat and tossed it onto the empty space on McCree’s other side. He watched the show alone for a little longer, grateful for synthetic muscles that wouldn’t cramp and didn’t need blood flow to function as he held himself still.

It got harder to focus. The screen became a blur of movement and color, the voices blended together into incoherent noise. The solid weight of McCree was the only constant. The man radiated heat like a furnace this close up. It was a comfortable warmth though, one Genji relaxed into gladly. Heat and cold didn’t affect him the way the once did, registering in his sensors more like simple facts than true sensations. Now felt different, the heat sinking into his synthetic muscles almost as if they were still flesh.

He started to drift, never quite asleep, no longer really awake. He sat on the edge of dreams, people and places flickering through his mind without ever solidifying. A golden halo, the sharp smell of cigar smoke curling into the air, a cheerful robotic laugh echoing through the room. 

A different sound cut through the rest. It was quiet at first, a deep rumbling that was felt more than heard. It turned into a growl as the sound grew, then a roar. The heat seeping into his side became uncomfortable, then unbearable, burning skin that was no longer there. The world in front of him disappeared into gaping maws that came from nowhere and surrounded everything in an ethereal blue glow. The glow twisted into vicious and recognizable shapes. The twin dragons now in front of him gave feral snarls. He could see nothing but rows of dagger like teeth as they lunged.

“Shit! What the- what the fuck.”

The world snapped back into focus. McCree was awkwardly twisted on the couch, his good hand reaching under him while his shoulders and legs braced his weight a couple inches above the cushions. He wrenched his rumpled hat from under his backside and dropped back down.

“Fuck that hurt. What-” He stopped mid sentence when he looked up, eyes going wide. Genji slowly became aware of his body. He was standing, bent in a fighting stance, hand hovering over the space his tantou usually resided in. His breathing was harsh, chest plates rising and falling along with the quick rhythm. 

“You alright?” McCree lurched up and glanced around the room. “Somethin’ happen?” His voice was still thick with sleep. “We fall asleep?” He muttered, more to himself than Genji.

“I’m fine.” Genji lied quickly. He straightened out and focused on his breathing. Keeping his face neutral was far more difficult so he reached for his discarded visor, which still sat on the coffee table undisturbed. With a few clicks it reattached. There was a moment of darkness before it flickered on and the room came back into view. McCree looked more awake now, concern written all over his face.

“You sure? You kind of freaked out there. Bad dream?” McCree stretched while he talked, wincing when joints popped. The movement exposed a swath of skin above his jeans, helped by a rumpled shirt with a couple of the lower buttons undone from awkward sleeping positions. A line of hair trailed from his belly button into his jeans, making Genji appreciated the cover his visor gave his eyes. 

“I assure you, I’m fine.”

McCree stared him down, disbelief clear on his face.

“Somethin’ you wanna talk about?”

“No.” Genji replied curtly. He regretted the tone instantly, though McCree showed no indication he even noticed. Of course he had, though. There was little that got past McCree.

“I was just...startled, that’s all.” Genji said, careful to keep his tone neutral. McCree’s expression didn’t change, but he gave a little nod.

“Well I’m here if you ever do.” He held a hand over his mouth as he yawned. “Why do I feel so damn old.” He grumbled. Genji let out a shaky laugh.

“Perhaps you should go back to your room. A proper bed is better for you back than an old couch.”

“And I’m too damn tired to argue.” He sighed. “I really am gettin’ old.” He shoved his hat onto his head and stood up with minimal grunts of discomfort. He dropped his hand the same shoulder he’d been sleeping on only moments ago.

“See you in the morning, Genji.”

“ _Oyasumi._ ”

McCree gave one last parting wave as he left. Genji stood alone, unmoving, for several seconds, controlling his breathing. Nightmares like that were hardly unheard of for him, but they had almost disappeared completely in the last couple of years. To have one now, out of the blue like that was...strange, at the very least. His brother hadn’t contacted him once since their last encounter, so why now?

He stared into the empty space. As serious as his thoughts were he found them constantly interrupted by images of quirking lips and exposed midriffs. He held his hand over his visor as if to cover his face, though nobody could have seen his blush even if they were here.

Finally, after several more seconds of silence, he looked up at the ceiling, and spoke the only word he felt could truly capture the thoughts and feelings running through him in that moment. 

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets just handwave all the medical inaccuracies, biotics are basically magic anyway.


	4. You Gotta Work on That Aim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introduction of Handsoap

Someone had followed him.

Hanzo realized it too late, with the closest city already inching towards the horizon when he noticed his shadow. He walked on flat land with little vegetation besides wild unkempt grass dotted with flowers and the occasional bush. There was no cover, no alternate path to take. He could turn around, lose his shadow back in the city, but he wasn't sure he would finish the return trip alive in the first place. They had an advantage on him. He needed to change that.

He was starting to regret this excursion. He hadn't planned on it when first passing through the nearby city, but the idea of exploring an abandoned war torn town, the site of one of the most famous battles of the crisis, peaked his curiosity. With someone on his trail, however, his leisurely trip lost some of its allure.

He strolled into town nonchalantly, bow held casually at his side. The place was beautiful in its own morbid way, he had to admit. Nature's efforts at reclaiming the area couldn't hide the decades old destruction or the broken omnic shells littering the ground. The bright colors of early summer did their best to hide gaping walls and craters in the pavement, but the cheeriness they added couldn’t quite overcome the morbid atmosphere.Too many reminders of a history marked in blood and death.

Hanzo would have loved to explore it in peace. He reassured himself with the knowledge that once the assassin was taken care of, he would have his chance.

Most likely they were an assassin of the Shimada-gumi. Their attempts on his life had grown fewer and far between over the years, but they never completely ceased. His recent break in to his ancestral home probably didn't help, nor the damage done to the centuries old buildings in the fight.

That train of thought slammed to a stop, shut down and pushed back instantly. With a deep breath he glanced up, forcing himself to focus as he scanned the area.

A yellow cardinal settled on a weathered sign post across the street. Maintaining his gaze, he carefully slid a sonic arrow from his quiver and pulled his bowstring taut. He released it into the sign, sending it swinging back and forth with a solid _thunk_ as the cardinal fluttered away, loudly chirping it's protests.

It revealed nothing, which was to be expected. With a smirk he strode past it, radiating an unconcerned air. The town sat on a hillside that constantly rolled upward to the medieval castle standing at the highest point. High ground could be an advantage, and a well placed sonic arrow might give him precious seconds of forewarning.

Metal soles tapped lightly on the stone pavement, echoing ominously in the silence. Squat buildings with sloped tiled roofs gave way to stone walls as he approached the fortress. There were multiple arches and doorways along the path to the castle doors, including heavy double doors with a busted mechanism and more missing doors in the smaller side entrances.

Heavy boots interrupted his thoughts. He nocked an arrow and drew his bow in one fluid motion, spinning towards the sound.

There stood a creature of nightmares, or perhaps a comical interpretation of one, clad in dark robes, shotgun shells hanging off belts crisscrossing it's chest, a grotesque bone white mask hiding it's face. The huge double shotguns held in each hand drained what humor there was in the situation. Tendrils of dark smoke curled out from under the robes, twisting in the air.

Hanzo forced himself to move, firing his arrow. The creature was barely ten meters away, a guaranteed hit, yet he watched it fly straight through, meeting no more resistance than if it were passing through mist. Hanzo gaped as he watched it continue on, trailing strands of black smoke as in embedded itself in a stone wall.

The creature laughed, a deep, unnatural sound that echoed across castle walls.

"What are you?" He asked it in horror.

"Does it matter?" It responded, speaking with a deep rasp. 

It took a step towards Hanzo. He took a step back, nocking another arrow. The thing made sound when it walked, the same footsteps he’d heard moments ago. It was solid now, which meant it could be hit, which meant it could be killed.

"I don't really care about you," It continued, "I'm looking for you brother."

Hanzo's blood went cold. Flashes of green, an expressionless mask mocking him, judging him. A young man with green hair and a carefree laugh.

"My brother is dead."

The thing made a noise like it clucked a tongue.

"We both know that's not true." It's form twisted on itself, turning to smoke before disappearing into nothing.

The sound of a gust of wind behind him was the only warning he got. Hanzo dove to the side, just a fraction to slow. Pain lanced through his right shoulder as pellets ripped into his flesh. He rolled behind a broken wall, barely avoiding the next shot. Jumping to his feet he bolted, putting as much space between them as possible. For a moment he faltered, pain blurring his vision, but he forced himself to grit his teeth and push through. When death followed so closely you did not have the luxury of slowing down.

With a grunt of pain he spun and fired an arrow. He was rewarded when it pierced the creature's torso, the cry of pain satisfying proof that he wasn't fighting a ghost.

Wounded, they both retreated. Hanzo tried climbing the battlements, but the pain proved too much.

"Tell me this," Hanzo called out as he hid in a stone corner, sure the creature was close enough to hear, "Why do you wish to find my brother so badly? Perhaps we could make a deal."

The responding chuckle bounced between the walls, making the origin difficult to pinpoint.

"I don't do deals anymore. Didn't work out for me last time."

It was close, that much was clear. Hanzo yanked out another sonic arrow with his good arm and stuck it into the wall behind him.

Just around the corner the creature showed up, dull, but there. Hanzo took a step back and, ignoring the sharp pain in his shoulder, aimed straight at the heat signature. This one would not miss.

"Pity." He called out. He could see the creature reacting to the close proximity of his voice, reaching inside its robes and pulling out the twin shotguns. Did hip holsters for such monstrous weapons even exist?

No matter. He took a deep breath, feeling the power rumbling in his chest, numbing the pain in his shoulder, better than adrenaline. His tattoo began to glow a soft blue, light coiling around his arms.

" _Ryu ga waga teki wo kurau!_ "

***

McCree stared at the featureless ceiling of the medbay. Despite his best efforts muscles tensed throughout his body, reflecting the anxiousness he refused to show in his face. Angela laid her hands on his left arm, carefully adjusting his newly restored prosthetic so it was lined up and loosely connected to his flesh stump. It rested up against metal plating that formed the connection between the mechanical arm and his organic nerves. Angela had reluctantly agreed the plates didn’t need replacement, though she made her opinion on the old style very clear.

“Are you ready, Jesse?” She asked, eyes catching his. He was careful to keep his expression largely neutral, though he threw her a small, reassuring smile. 

“Whenever you are, Doc.”

“Alright.” She focused back on his arm. “On the count of three. One,” with a sharp twist she completed the connection. Pain lanced through his arm like a dozen knives, slicing up into the shoulder without mercy. He couldn’t stop a strangled shout from escaping. To her credit, Angela didn’t react besides a worried glance to his face.

“You usually go on two!” He hissed.

“I offered to numb it first,” she reminded him with only a hint of pity.

“Takes twice as long that way,” he muttered through gritted teeth. The pain was already fading, though he knew it would be sore for a couple of days at least.

“Alright, can you move it?”

McCree lifted his arm gingerly, slowly twisting the wrist joint back and forth. He rolled his fingers around before making a fist, then a peace sign, then-

“Jesse!” Angela hissed, knocking his arm back to the table with a slap of her hand. McCree laughed, ignoring the fresh wave of pain the movement brought. It wasn't nearly as bad as the first time.

“My bad,” he apologized, which was a little undermined by the grin on his face. “Looks like it's workin’ great though, Doc. Torbjorn didn't put a gun in it or nothin’.”

Angela rolled her eyes, probably remembering the engineers disappointed expression when his grand redesigns were unanimously vetoed.

“Does it feel alright? No strange pressure, pinching, anything like that?”

“Nope. Feels real smooth.”

“Good.” She nodded, more to herself than anything. “Come back if that changes, I can prescribe medication for the pain.”

“Will do.”

He pushed himself up with both arms, smiling like an idiot. Christ, did it feel good to have both arms again. 

Angela pulled back the privacy curtain, the only thing between them and the rest of the medbay. Completely unnecessary in McCree’s opinion, since there were only three other people in the whole damn watch point.

Two, he reminded himself. Genji had disappeared to pick up Lucio and his mysterious omnic friend earlier that morning. Though he probably wouldn’t be gone much longer.

“Mind handin’ me my shirt, Doc?”

Angela looked at him with a deadpan expression.

“...Pretty please?”

Her face cracked into a smile. McCree winked. A familiar routine, one that filled him with a five year old ache. He never knew how much he’d missed all this until he had it again.

As she reached for the checkered button up, McCree heard the soft click of the medbay door opening.

“Dr. Ziegler, are you-” Genji spoke as he stepped in, freezing when he spotted McCree. He was followed by the excitable audio medic, and another figure still hidden in the doorway McCree couldn't make out.

McCree cleared his throat, too aware of the eyes on his naked torso.

“Howdy.”

Lucio whistled. “Looking good Eastwood!”

“Watch it.” McCree growled, finally getting a hold of his shirt from Angela. Lucio raised his hands in surrender, still smiling.

“Not joking, but alright, man.”

“I've heard quite a bit about you, Mr. Corriera, it's nice to finally meet you.”

Angela stretched out a hand that Lucio was quick to take in a friendly handshake, distracting the DJ from McCree’s wrath.

“You too. I've read a couple of your papers, you've done some really cool stuff. I've only done medicine informally myself, but if you let me, I'd love to learn from one of the best.”

His enthusiasm and sincerity caught the Doctor off guard, but her responding smile was just as genuine. McCree, now fully clothed, relocated his hat from the table to his head and sauntered over to the small group.

“That sounds like a great idea.” She shifted her gaze to Genji, still standing silently to the side. “Did you need something, Genji?”

“Only to introduce you to Lucio, and of course my Master, Zenyatta.” 

He spoke the name with such reverence McCree found himself feeling underdressed, out of place, and sure he was supposed to bring wine or something to these kinds of events. 

Genji stepped aside with a small nod to allow the omnic through the door. McCree stared, suddenly very curious what made this omnic so special.

He was a pretty standard omnic, clad in what McCree assumed were traditional clothes of his monastery. He floated a few feet off the ground instead of standing and metal orbs floated languidly around his head. The omnic exuded an aura of peace, somehow looking calm and serene without having a face to make the proper expressions.

“Greetings.” Zenyatta bowed his head in, slightly lowering his clasped hands with the motion. 

“Howdy.” McCree repeated, tipping his hat with his newly attached arm. Angela echoed the greeting with her own, much warmer one. 

“I've heard much about you,” Angela said, “it's great to finally meet you.”

“I've heard much about you as well, Dr. Ziegler. I wish to personally thank you for everything you've done for Genji, I'm very fond of him. Without you I would never have met my brightest student, and one of my closest friends.”

Angela blushed at the compliment, and suddenly McCree felt like a third wheel in a conversation with five people.

“Well I guess I'll be goin’. Good to see you again,” He nodded at Lucio, “and nice to meet ya.” He tipped his hat one last time, awkwardly shuffling through the crowded doorway.

“Don't over exert yourself!” Angela called after him. He gave a lazy wave of acknowledgement, not willing to stop or turn around. 

***

He fanned the hammer, embedding six bullets in a tight circle on the target just because he could. Two weeks without an arm. He had no intention of wasting that today, even if the movement did occasionally create a new spark of pain.

“Agent McCree, your presence is requested in the debriefing room.”

McCree glanced up with a frown at Athena’s voice. 

“Didn’t know I was so special I warranted a personal message.” He reloaded Peacekeeper before shoving it back in its holster.

“It was not known you are so special you do not need to respond to your comm device, so I was asked to find you personally.”

With a lack of a face to look at, McCree stared at the ceiling in disbelief, though a little bit of guilt pooled in his gut at the thought of the abandoned comm unit laying on his nightstand. “Don’t you sass me.” He growled. Athena did not deign him with a response. 

This day just kept getting better.

Predictably, he was the last to arrive in the debriefing room. All faces turned to him, mostly with smiles and nods, so he returned the favor, deciding to lean against the back wall instead of making his way to the one open chair near the front. 

“Thank you all for coming.” Winston paused to push up his falling glasses. “I have some good news. I know you’ve all been worrying about our members still out on mission.” Tracer, Reinhardt, and Mei. An odd but effective group apparently, sent on their own recruitment mission. Winston had refused to give detailed updates, only assuring everyone one base that the others were doing fine, they were checking in, their mission was just taking longer than expected. Everyone perked up at the promise of news except for Lucio and the omnic Zenyatta, both who clearly knew nothing about the missing members of the new Overwatch.

“Their original mission was to find an old member of Overwatch, Lucy O’Neil.”

Vague memories bubbled to the surface. A hard woman, sharp features, fiercely loyal to the cause. She spoke against Blackwatch alongside Reinhardt, but unlike him, never could spare McCree a kind word. Good soldier, though, and by Winston’s tone, a soldier whose help they wouldn’t get.

“She responded to the initial recall from Atlanta, Georgia, but afterwards we received only silence. Considering recent events, I worried what might have happened. Unfortunately, my fears were not unfounded, and she was...gone, by the time our team arrived.” A moment of hesitation. “Murdered.” He finally admitted.

“This is good news?” Torbjorn dropped a heavy mechanical hand on the table. “She was one of the best we had!”

“What? No! I mean no, that isn’t the good news. You see, I authorized a few extra days to investigate, as long as they didn’t impede local authorities. During the investigation they had a run in with Helix security.”

McCree didn’t understand the scientist’s excitement at the name. He’d heard of Helix of course, pretty standard security. He’d worked around them a few times himself in the last few years, though, so admittedly he couldn’t claim he was unbiased.

Winston pressed a few buttons and a holovid flickered to life in front of them, showing a map of Egypt. A few more keystrokes and it zoomed into northern part of the map, focusing on a fenced in compound.

“Their investigation led them to this facility outside of Cairo-”

“How?”

All attention turned to him, and McCree immediately regretted talking. 

“What do you mean, how?” Winston asked, genuinely confused.

“That’s a pretty big jump, Georgia to Egypt. Where’d they get the info?”

“Oh, uh, they found it.”

They stared at each other in silence. After a few awkward moments McCree gestured for him to continue.

“I don’t really know the details, yet, but I know they found evidence that the murderer left the United States for Cairo with a fake passport, then followed the trail to this research facility on the outskirts of Cairo.”

McCree said nothing, schooling his face into a mask of neutrality. They just found the evidence? Reinhardt didn’t know the concept of subtlety, Mei was a shy scientist, and Lena was, well, Tracer, one of the most recognizable faces of Overwatch, especially after the fight at the museum with Winston. They weren’t exactly made for covert ops. 

“They watched the facility for a few days, ultimately found out it manufactures advanced weapons. Helix is employed by them as security, but also functions as a customer, giving them a vested interest in its protection. Not surprisingly, our agents realized this facility would be the focus of a Talon attack. While unable to prevent it completely, they helped prevent any casualties by working with the Helix employees assigned there.”

“If Helix knows they were acting as agents of Overwatch that could have serious repercussions. The PETRAs act is still a barrier, still a law we have to worry about.” Angela stressed. 

“Oh, they know.” Winston smiled. Torbjorn huffed at him.

“For the love of- just tell us what this is about already!”

“They’ve agreed to help us.”

Nobody knew what to say to that. The shock was clear on everybody’s face. Lucio’s mouth had pulled into a tight line. 

“I know I’m new to the whole hero thing, but I’ve gone against big companies before. Are you sure that’s a good idea? Are you sure we can trust them?”

_No_. McCree kept his mouth shut this time.

“I understand your concern, but we have a special ‘in’ with them. Some of you know her, some don’t, but she was once very close with many members of Overwatch.”

The screen changed again, showing a picture of a young, stern looking woman with a tattoo under her right eye. The picture looked like some form of official ID, probably no more than a couple years old. McCree’s eyes went wide.

“Little Fareeha?”

“Little?” Lucio asked. Angela outright gasped at the image. 

“Someone wanna fill me in?” Lucio asked.

“Fareeha Amari,” Winston answered, “Daughter of one of the founding members of Overwatch, currently a captain at Helix security. Codename: Pharah. She’s the one who recognized our agents and coordinated the combined efforts of our people. She’s also the one who advocated for us to the higher ups of Helix. They have agreed not to expose us to the U.N.”

There was a collective sigh of relief.

McCree frowned. “And what exactly do they want for their silence?” What little lightness had been in the room disappeared. Only Lucio had stayed tense, and McCree didn’t miss the small nod at his words. 

“We saved the lives of several of their top employees, as well as a critical research facility.” Winston replied, more sternly than before. Lucio muttered something about weapons, but Winston diplomatically ignored him. “We’ve found an ally with Helix, and they’ve even pledged to speak for us against the PETRAs act when the time comes. They’ve also reassigned Pharah as an official liaison between Overwatch and Helix, along with her raptora suit.” His chest swelled with excitement as he spoke, and the gorilla stood as straight as was physically possible for an organism that works best on all fours.

Lucio sniffed. “Pretty generous of the billion dollar international company.”

“Helix believes a partnership between them and Overwatch would only benefit both parties, and I’m inclined to agree.” Winston spoke with a tone of finality, a little of his enthusiasm dampened by the suspicion radiating from at least two of the seven people in the room. The rest of the group didn’t look too happy about it either, though Angela and Torbjorn perked up a little at the mention of Fareeha. 

Someone else he never thought he’d see again. A curious little girl, a sharp tongued teenager, family. Images that tugged at his heart, ripping open his patchwork job on the wounds in his soul. He could never heal, just tie up, push down, and move past.

“That’s all for now. You’re all dismissed.” 

Being closest to the door, McCree was the first one out. It was late afternoon, too much time to spend it all smoking, though he was tempted to try. He should do something more productive. Get in some practice at the range, or help Torbjorn build that garden plot he’d been talking about for the last few weeks. 

Or he could research Helix. 

A touch on his arm made him jump. He spun, hand already moving to his holster, when he came face to face with Genji.

“You’re too damn quiet.” He breathed. Genji just chuckled at his response. 

“You’ve said that before.”

Genji was a few inches shorter than McCree, enough of a difference that he had to tilt his head up to look McCree in the eyes. He stood just a little too close, making the difference more pronounced than usual.

“Need somethin’, partner?”

“I just wanted to congratulate you.”

“Congratulate?”

“You’re arm.” Genji rested his own mechanical hand on McCree’s, as gently as if he were touching real flesh. “I did not know you were getting it reattached today.” 

The last sentence came out with a touch of accusation. McCree had the decency to look a little abashed.

“It’s not a big enough deal to interrupt anyone else’s day.”

“It’s a very big deal.” Genji corrected. “I would not have left if I had known. I know how hard it is to lose a part of yourself.”

The cyborg still hadn’t moved his hand. For a cold piece of metal, it was doing a pretty good job of burning a hole into McCree. In that moment he was almost glad he couldn’t feel that arm. 

“Yeah.” He answered dumbly. 

They stood in silence a moment too long. Genji jerked his hand away in a sudden motion, stepping back to a more friendly distance. McCree’s heart thudded dully in his ears. This was turning into the impromptu movie night, a constant fight to maintain normality, to smile, but not to much, to listen, but not too intently, to be a friend, but not -

_Look, I -_

“I’ll leave you for now, I promised my time for today to my Master.” He gave McCree a small bow, too stiff and formal, as if they’d known each other for ten days instead of ten years. Then the cyborg was gone, light footsteps not even echoing in the empty hallway.

“...Jesse?”

Well, he’d thought it was empty.

Cursing himself internally, hoping she hadn’t read too much into the interaction but knowing she had by the tone of her voice, he turned to face her, all confidence and swagger and a sly smile designed to distract.

“Well howdy there Ang. Thought you’d gone back to the clinic by now.”

“I was on my way…” She trailed off. “You two were standing very close.” He didn’t like the expression forming on her face, a realization just now dawning.

McCree raised an eyebrow. “Well now, my apologies miss, wouldn’t want to offend your delicate sensibilities.” He mocked with a friendly tone. She answered with a glare, but not a joking one, not an easy one that would slip away in seconds without any real emotion to hold it in place. 

“Don’t try that Jesse, not now. It was him, wasn’t it? Back then you -”

“I’m gonna cut you off right there.” His voice hardened. “That was years ago and it ain’t your business.”

Hurt crossed her face. “We’ve been friends for nearly twenty years and it isn’t my business?”

“It doesn’t matter, alright? Nothin’s gonna happen.” He swept past her, spurs jangling loudly with his quick steps. Of course, not to be deterred, she hurried after him, yanking him to a stop by his serape near the stairs to training range one. Her strength didn’t compare to his, so stopping was more out of politeness for her. Or resignation. 

“Ang…”

“You have to tell him.”

“I ain’t ruinin’ what we’ve got over something like that. I’m a grown man, I’ll deal with it.”

“You’re a stupid man!”

McCree sputtered, the insult stinging more than he would ever admit.

“Stupid?”

“Yes, stupid! You can’t keep this from him.”

“And why the hell not?” He spat, anger rushing out before he could stop it. “He didn’t even say bye, Ang. Years of friendship, of camaraderie, of fightin’ by each other’s side, and he just up and goes without a word. That’s not somebody who wants to hear about my feelings.”

She laughed, a little too high pitched and a little off kilter.

“You mean like how you said goodbye to me?”

That deflated him. A late night, an offer of food and conversation, a promise of a rain check. 

“That wasn’t -” He started to murmur.

“Wasn’t what? Wasn’t the same? We’ve know each other for almost half our lives, Jesse, and I didn’t deserve a goodbye?”

McCree took a deep breath and watched her do the same. He’d already lost his grasp on this conversation. Now he was just watching his hasty seams being torn apart bit by bit. _Should have learned to properly sew._

“It’ll just ruin what we’ve got.” He half whispered,. “That’s the last thing I want to do, Ang.”

“You have to try.” Her voice matched his in volume, no longer wearing an edge. She gently pressed a hand on his shoulder. “No more hiding, Jesse. For us and yourself.”

He looked away. After a few moments of silence, she dropped her hand and, after another few moments of uncomfortable silence, she walked away, finally leaving him alone.

***

After half an hour of shit aim McCree gave up on practice. He wandered outside without much thought, lighting a cigarillo to keep him company as he trailed through the base.

He purposely kept away from any inhabited areas, in no mood to chat or try and explain himself to the more observant people here. Angela, mostly.

His feet took him to the edge of an old path, thin and steep and overgrown with tough underbrush after years of disuse, that wound up the rocky cliffs to the very top. It was little used, even then, with only the most intense agents trying to train on it. It became a sort of initiation ritual, a test of prowess for the newbies. These attempts ended with twisted ankles more often than not, leading to a mandatory buddy system for anyone who wished to continue using it, as well as permission of a ranked officer.

Traffic dropped considerably after that, while treadmill usage went up. In fact, there were only two people who still ran the trail on any sort of regular basis, one of whom only went when goaded and regretted it every time, usually while on the ground.

Nostalgia welled in his chest. Angela’s words rung in his head, overlaying faded memories of friendship. Bits and pieces that had rattled in his brain since the day he walked out, leaving nothing behind and taking only what his heart and mind could carry. Enemies turned to allies, jailer turned family, stranger turned friend.

McCree started up the path at a steady walk. Years and too many cigarillos later he wasn't sure how far he'd get, but he was willing to try. At least he could be pretty sure he'd be alone without anyone to witness his shame. His spurs jangled too loudly in the silence. McCree had to be careful to keep them from clanking against rocks. He's lost spurs to that kind of damage in the past.

It didn't take long for his breathing to turn heavy. He forced himself to put out his cigarillo, grinding it into the ground before moving on.

It shouldn't be so damn hard just to walk there. The path curved around the rocks just ahead, giving an expansive view of the ocean. McCree figured that was a great spot to rest, though he decided to lean back against the still-warm rocks instead of standing at the edge. 

His breath was too harsh for smoking, so he ignored the last cigarillo in his pocket. 

_This as far as you got, cabròn?_

He could still hear Genji laughing above them, pulling a smirk from their fearless leader.

_Hurry up, McCree-San, I had to come back down from the top just to find you!_

“Little shit.” He muttered to himself. Simpler times, in their own way.

With his breathing almost back to normal, he shoved off the rock back into a standing position. With a roll of his shoulders (and a pop he ignored) he finally rounded the corner, just to run smack-dab into another person.

A man, his brain registered.

A _strange_ man.

They both jumped back on sheer instinct. Peacekeeper was out in an instant. The other man reacted just as quickly, his bulky weapon aimed at McCree’s head with surprising speed.

A silent stand off between a gun and a damn bow. He'd laugh if the razor sharp arrow wasn't aimed between his eyes.

After a few tense moments McCree decided to talk, maybe end this without bloodshed, or at least without his blood being shed. Then the archer’s eyes flickered to the side, for a fraction of a second.

Good enough.

“Wait!”

McCree’s hand jerked at the familiar voice, firing into the air over the stranger’s shoulder instead of into it. The man loosed his own weapon, but his aim stayed steady.

Small projectiles intercepted it a foot away, cracking it in half and sending the broken arrow spiraling toward the ocean. McCree resolved to never doubt his friend’s reflexes.

“Anyone wanna tell me what the hell is going on?” Against all odds, his voice stayed steady, though it was edged with the anger of someone who's happiness at survival is arguing with their frustration at almost dying like a married couple who hadn't gone to counseling in months.

Genji finally dropped into view, body lights coming to life and bathing them all in an eerie green glow. He ignored McCree’s question in favor of the stranger, speaking in rapid-fire Japanese. The stranger responded tersely. 

The conversation didn't last long and by the looks of things left no one in a good mood, but the stranger had at least sling his weapon across his back, even if he did so while glaring at his almost-victim.

Genji faced him at last. McCree scowled. He wondered if Genji really was as calm as his visit made him look.

“I am sorry for the poor introduction, my friend, but I would like you to meet my brother, Hanzo Shimada.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually broken spurs by accidentally knocking them against things. Cheap spurs, but still.


	5. I Will Not Waste This Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo is here. Shenanigans ensue.

He saw McCree walking around the side of the cliff, an old path Genji had nearly forgotten about. He smiled to himself at the memory, and wondered how pissed off McCree would be if Genji waited for him at the top.

Or maybe not. Maybe Genji would just make it awkward again, a bad habit he seemed to have lately. Maybe he should leave McCree to his privacy. If he wanted company, after all, he would have asked.

“...do you agree, Genji?”

Genji's head snapped to his master, who watched him serenely from a few feet away.

“Of course, Master.” Came his automatic reply. Zenyatta nodded.

“The circus will be very pleased then.”

Genji paused, then sighed with a small chuckle.

“My apologies for getting distracted.”

“It's not the first time since I've arrived.” The omnic said with a hint of amusement. “Especially since the visit to the clinic.”

Genji resisted the urge to turn his head. If he was blushing, nobody could actually see it.

“I don’t think I should be the one taking responsibility for that, Master.” 

Zenyatta threw his head back and laughed. 

“Of course not, my student” His tone turned thoughtful. “I do wonder, though, if that is the only reason for your distraction?”

Genji frowned under his mask. He watched the movement of calm waves rolling onto shore, clearly visible through his visor, even in the low light. This place was truly beautiful.

“Yes, and no.” He answered slowly. His Master was one person he knew he didn’t need to hold back with, nor did he want to. “I’ve realized that feelings I thought were long since gone are..well, not, and I don’t know how to respond to that. The way we - I - left things, it seems wrong now.”

“You believe your feelings are wrong?” Zenyatta asked with curiosity, his voice betraying no other emotion or opinion.

“I believe they would be unwanted.” He stopped, waiting for a response, but Zenyatta said nothing, only nodded in encouragement. 

”I did not expect instant forgiveness when apologizing, but that is what he tried to give me. If he doesn’t want to be truthful about his emotions towards me, do I have a right to push mine on him? Would that not just ruin a friendship I’m not even sure I would get back?” Frustration crept into his voice. He huffed in annoyance at his own emotions. “I feel childish, like a teenager with their first crush.”

“What your feeling is human. I ask though, is being truthful and honest not important for all relationships? If you can’t be honest, how true is your friendship?”

Genji’s shoulders slumped. He’d expected a response like that, but it made it no easier to hear. 

“You think I should speak with him.”

“I think you need to decide what it is you want, and what you’re willing to live with.” His Master said, not without kindness. 

What was he willing to live with? Quite a lot, if his past was anything to go by. That didn’t mean he wanted a repeat.

He looked back towards the cliffside path. McCree was no longer visible, but Genji doubted he had gotten far. It was a perfect blind spot from Athena’s surveillance drones, and a guarantee that they would be alone from prying eyes.

Perhaps his idea of waiting at the top had some merit after all.

***

“I’m glad you’re here, brother.” Genji didn’t look at Hanzo as he spoke, instead focusing on the distant horizon, nothing more than a thin pink line now.

“You look well” Hanzo offered after a moment of silence. It sounded gruff and a little strained, but sincere all the same.

“I am. I have many friends here. I hope you get to know them.”

Hanzo snorted at that. “I doubt they want anything to do with me. Especially the doctor and that ridiculous cowboy.”

It was true Angela had radiated barely concealed hostility during the impromptu meeting, but McCree hadn’t given off the same vibe. He’d stayed largely silent, ignoring empty chairs in favor of leaning against the back wall with his brim pulled over his eyes. He even spoke in Hanzo’s favor, stating “Mistakes happen. If Genji trusts him to be here so do I.”

Hanzo had only raised an eyebrow in surprise, but Genji had been more than a little shocked. McCree had been clearly furious at the whole debacle on the cliff, matching Genji’s own anger at the situation, if for very different reasons.

Genji had quickly reined in his own emotions. Hanzo’s arrival was the biggest surprise, and he couldn’t ignore it for his own comfort.

“Doctor Ziegler is the one who saved my life. She was the only one in that room who knows the whole truth.”

Hanzo stiffened. “I see.”

“She also knows how I feel about it.” Genji paused, focusing on steady breathing to keep his nervous energy from showing. 

“It is not too late to change your course, brother.”

“You are mistaken. I am beyond redemption.” The reply was immediate, the tone defeated from the start.

Genji risked a glance at his brother. He’d done much to change his appearance since they’d last met, shaving the side of his head and getting multiple piercings. The septum piercing was the oddest of all, not something he would have expected of his traditional older brother in a million years. Genji had felt hope at the sight, hope that his brother was working through the shock of seeing Genji alive and what he had become. Hanzo had fallen so far, he hoped to see him pulling himself back up.

This conversation was a blow to that hope. Pride and defeat within moments of each other. Genji could feel the rage still simmer below the surface, bitterness that had sat with and warped Hanzo for the last ten years. He’d seen it the moment he turned Hanzo’s own dragons against him.

“Is this what’s become of you?” He murmured. a pity.

“Do you think you can do better?” Hanzo snapped.

“I am certain of it.”

Hanzo stood in one fluid motion, but there was no pride in the way his shoulders slumped.

“Perhaps.” He turned on his heel and left without another word, leaving Genji with a hollow ache in his heart.

The next few weeks were going to be difficult. 

***

The arrival of Fareeha and the return of the rest of the agents was chaotic to say the least. Reinhardt had even brought someone new, a young woman named Brigitte. It was more than a little surprising to hear her call Torbjorn ‘papa’, though maybe Genji should have guessed as much from the heavy set of armor she’d brought with her. It was obvious she would soon make fast friends with everyone there. It was a joyful kind of chaos full of laughter and enthusiastic greetings. Genji had planned to bring Hanzo, but his brother was nowhere to be found. The man had been constantly absent since he’d arrived a few days ago. After telling his story, and the reassurances of Genji, he had been given a guest ID and private dorm of his own. He’d made it clear he had no intention of joining Overwatch, and so far his avoidance of every member except for Genji and their awkward talks backed up his words. 

Genji pushed his brother out of his mind, instead focusing on the introduction of his Master. Lena’s reaction was the most amusing at first, but quickly turned into a semi-private serious conversation with Zenyatta on Zenyatta’s late friend and omnic rights. Genji listened to the soft, calming tones of his Master and stepped away to give them space. 

Almost inevitably his eyes drifted to McCree, who still stood together with Fareeha. She’d practically jumped into the cowboy’s arms on arrival, more like a small girl than a fully grown woman. Like everyone else, her eyes flicked to McCree’s mechanical arm, but she wisely said nothing. He had yet to give anybody a direct answer to the new appendage, and Genji wondered if he ever would.

Genji’s confession still lay unspoken, and it weighed on him more every day. He hated how his eyes always drifted back to McCree, how everything refocused every time the man walked into a room. Each time he looked McCree in the face he remembered a nervous smile from eight years past and felt as if he’d been caught in a lie. 

Hanzo had the worst timing. 

McCree, of course, chose this moment to turn his head, smiling in that cheeky way of his. Genji wished his heart didn’t constrict so painfully at such a simple sight. With a sigh he ignored it, tipping an invisible hat, which only made the other man’s smile wider. Genji watched Fareeha snap to catch McCree’s attention again, raising an eyebrow in Genji’s direction. Genji simply cocked his head in response. He’d never really known Fareeha, she had already left to live her own life by the time he’d arrived in Overwatch, though sometimes it felt that he knew her from the stories McCree had told alone.

A touch to his shoulder brought his attention around. Zenyatta floated next to him, alone now. Genji’s eyes flickered across the still gathered groups until he found Lena laughing next to Lucio and Brigitte and Reinhardt, whose conversation had Lucio shaking his head.

“You seem distracted, Genji.” Zenyatta murmured. Genji said nothing, but he heard the word again echoing in his ears.

“You cannot control your fate, my student, but you can control your mind. A disciplined mind is your most dependable ally, even when your doubts feel overwhelming.”

Genji felt strangely chastised, like a child. 

“I know, Master. I’ve been thrown off balance, but I will find my way back.”

“Hey, Genji!” Lena called out, waving frantically. She stood alone with Lucio, the massive presence of Reinhardt making his way back into the base proper with his squire. With a short goodbye to Zenyatta, who waved his own languid goodbye, Genji walked over, increasingly suspicious with each step as their smiles widened. 

“So Genji,” Lucio began, rubbing his hands together, “You’re pretty fast, right?”

Genji raised an eyebrow they couldn’t see.

“I can move quickly when I need to, yes.”

The two exchanged glances, only increasing Genji’s apprehension. Lena was the one to speak this time.

“Wanna play a game?”

***

Lucio was fast. Faster than Genji had expected, and incredibly hard to catch. He didn’t move with the quiet grace Genji had learned over decades of training, but he twisted and jumped and flipped like a dancer, using his skates to glide over walls as easily as if he were on flat ground. 

He was a quick thinker too, using slick surfaces difficult for Genji to climb and using an impressive speed boost with his crossfade suit to jump out of Genji’s reach every time he got close. 

Lucio whooped as he flew across the training room’s walls. It was set to constantly change the environment, moving walls and obstacles at random. Lena giggled as she slipped around corners, blinking across the room when Genji was in range and waving from a safe distance. 

He needed to change tactics, clearly. Lucio had the advantage on the walls, so Genji needed to ground him. Lena kept out of range with her unpredictable movements, so he needed to force her into predictable ones.

Easier said than done. 

Lucio was the logical starting point. His movements were slippery, but unlike Lena, predictable. His consistently telegraphed his next movements, so all Genji had to do was watch.

He focused on the DJ, ignoring the giggling time traveler running circles around him. Genji climbed one of the random columns, putting himself out of Lena’s reach and on Lucio’s level.

“Catch me if you can!” Lucio called. He jumped, twisting his body and holding a hand against the wall to turn a corner. Genji gave chase, scanning the path ahead of him. There were a few different ways Lucio could go from there, but he liked to show off, to make the most impressive jumps and craziest rides.

There were columns spread throughout the room, flat surfaces perfect for Lucio to jump from one to the next, allowing him to cross the room at erratic angles. He could stick to the wall, take a simpler and slower path, but…

His skates turned. Lucio’s muscles tensed as he prepared to eject himself from the wall. His right hand flexed, readying a movement connected to his suit that would shoot him forward with a burst of speed.

Genji spun, throwing himself ahead of the musician. Lucio was too focused on his movements, too confident. He didn’t see Genji launching himself at the same column until it was too late. Genji slapped the other man on the shoulder before pushing back off the wall, rolling through the air to land crouched on the ground, his feet making only a light tapping sound with the impact. 

Lucio jerked with surprise at the contact, forcing him into an awkward spin as he tried to regain traction on the wall. He skidded from surface to surface, controlling his fall until he landed heavily on the ground, though still on his feet.

“Merda. You nearly gave me a heart attack!” He chuckled, breath a little shaky. “Did not see you coming at all.”

“That was the plan.” Genji bowed dramatically. “Now I believe you are ‘it’.”

Lucio straightened up. “Hey Tracer, my turn now.”

“Good luck!” She giggled from across the room. Lucio rolled his eyes, the effect a little hampered by his huge smile, and nodded at Genji, an ok to take a small head start. 

Genji made a quick dash to cover, not counting on Lucio’s good will to keep him safe for long. 

“It’s not hide and seek!” Lucio called after him with a laugh.

“And yet you can’t tag me if you can’t find me!” He risked calling back. Lucio was going to have a difficult time, that was for sure. 

The sound of Lucio’s skates made it hilariously simple to keep track of him. Genji found a good corner to crouch in, a position his synthetic muscles could hold near indefinitely. Lena wasn’t even trying to stay quiet and it was clear Lucio would go for her first. No reason to take unnecessary risks. 

His mind drifted while his ears kept track of skates and giggles and the quick noises of Lena’s blinks. He wondered where Hanzo was. He seemed to spend all of his time meditating and training alone. He’d been alone for ten years, he must have picked up other hobbies. He’d shaved parts of his head and gotten piercings, surely his bow wasn’t his whole world. 

He rarely gave much away though. Even when they talked Hanzo focused more on Genji, asking questions about Overwatch, before and now, the other agents, tentative questions about his body. He hadn’t taken a liking to Zenyatta and avoided the omnic monk at all costs, so conversations about the monastery were few and far between. 

In a group of people that included a talking gorilla, Hanzo picked Angela and McCree to ask the most about. The curiosity seemed to stem from distrust more than anything. Angela stayed the cool professional whenever she and Hanzo shared a room, and Hanzo responded with sharp tones bordering on rudeness.

McCree, on the other hand, had become friendly, forcing Hanzo into conversations any time he made the mistake of being in the same room as the gunslinger. McCree smiled and laughed and Hanzo responded politely. The one time Genji asked McCree about it he just shrugged and claimed not giving Hanzo a second chance would make him a hypocrite. 

“But,” and here he’d turned serious, “You ever want him out just say the word, I’ll chuck him out the front door myself.”

Genji had laughed harder than he should have and assured McCree that wouldn’t be necessary. He felt a little guilty even now, smiling at the image of McCree ‘chucking’ Hanzo out. 

“Havin’ fun in there?” 

What’s that phrase he always used? Something about the devil?

McCree’s voice resonated over the speakers. 

“We’re testing our dexterity and speed. Care to join us?” Genji called back. 

“You tryin’ to say something? You might be fast, Genji, but you ain’t faster than a bullet.”

“Why don’t we find out?” Genji teased.

McCree laughed. “Those are some bold words, even for you. Love to join but I’m just passing through. Giving your brother here a quick tour of the place.”

That caught Genji off guard. 

“Hanzo is there?”

A moment of silence, then a quiet but stern “I am.”

“Ah.” an awkward pause. “I see. I apologize for not thinking of it myself.”

“Hey we all got things on our mind.” McCree answered in Hanzo’s stead. “Anyway, we’ll get out of your hair now. You have fun now.”

The speakers cut off. Genji itched to go see if they were really gone. The viewing window far above the floor was too darkened too see through it. Genji stared at it anyway, until Lucio’s voice behind him pulled him back to reality.

“So uh, can I ask a question?”

Genji turned slowly to face his training partners, who stood side by side right behind him. Lucio had a hand slightly raised. Lena just stared with wide eyes.

Genji did not have a good feeling about this.

“I don’t want to get in your personal business man, I totally get it if you don’t want to answer me, but...there something between you and Eastwood?”

“We are good friends,” He answered instantly, “We have been for many years.”

“Ok, sure, sure.” Lucio said in the tone of somebody who didn’t believe you in the slightest but didn’t want to start an argument over it.

“One more question. Does he know you like him or…?”

“Lucio!” Lena quickly chided. 

“Ok, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m not trying to pry, I just-”

Genji held up a hand.

“It’s alright, you do not need to apologize. But I do think I’ll take my leave for now.” He gave a small bow of his head. “Thank you for this, I enjoyed it.”

“Genji,” Lena interrupted his exit, “you know- well, we’re always here for you, yeah? If you want to talk or something?”

Genji nodded, trying not to show how eager he was to leave. “I know, Lena, And thank you.”

Her smile was genuine if a little awkward. Another reason to leave quickly. 

He needed to talk to McCree, sooner rather than later.

***

They were still arguing. McCree had to have been in the briefing room with Fareeha and Winston for an hour at this point. The soundproof room gave no hints to the tone of the conversation, but Genji doubted it was pretty.

Fareeha and Winston had brought everyone together to explain what role Helix would play in helping Overwatch, which, from what Genji gathered, was Fareeha and positive PR. This would be a good thing in the long run, having a giant like Helix on their side, but there was only so much Helix could do without proof that the new Overwatch was what it claimed to be. 

They needed to back up their words with actions, so Winston had begun planning a trip to Siberia, a strike against one of the omniums destroying the lives of thousands of people in Russia. Genji could only begin to imagine the quagmire Winston was wading through to make that work. The Russians didn’t even want the UN’s help, so how would they convince them to accept help from an illegal organization using the name of it’s former disgraced self? How would they do it without bringing the ire of the UN down on them?

Winston was tight lipped about it. It would take time, but he was sure he could do it. Despite the uneasy atmosphere everyone accepted the explanation, trusting their leader’s judgement, for now at least.

Then McCree, standing in his new favorite spot up against the wall, spoke up.

“What about Talon?”

All eyes turned to the cowboy, but his focus stayed on Winston.

“We don’t have enough information to act against them at this time. We’ll have to wait until they pop up again.” Winston responded slowly, not doing a good job of hiding the confusion in his face.

“They show up in Kings row, twice, at that museum, here in Gibraltar, on a train to Dallas, they kill old Overwatch agents, attack a weapons base-I think we’ve got plenty to be going on.” McCree’s tone was neutral and casual, but the sharp look in his eyes belied the illusion he tried to give. Winston frowned and peered over his glasses.

“I understand your concern Jesse, I want to stop them as much as you, believe me, but we have different priorities now, and not enough resources.”

McCree’s voice turned a little harsher, his muscles tensing ever so slightly. “How are we supposed to stop a second omnic crisis if Talon is picking us off from the back?”

Winston straightened, as much as a Gorilla can. “Everyone, the briefing is over. Jesse, if you’d like to discuss this more-”

“I think I would.”

Everyone was quick to leave them alone, and even quicker to form a group outside the door, whispering and waiting.

There was a general vibe of disapproval, though whether these feelings were directed at Winston or McCree, Genji wasn’t sure. Lena and Lucio shot Genji concerned looks that he ignored, while Hanzo barely spared the closed door a glance before walking away. They group dissipated slowly, people leaving in pairs and on their own. Angela was the last, patting Genji’s shoulder as she walked away. It was an oddly comforting gesture, and made Genji wonder if Lena and Lucio had talked after all.

By the time McCree finally left the room, jingling spurs at odd with his stormy expression, Genji was the only one left, sitting in a meditation pose just around the corner. 

McCree paused at the sight of Genji on the floor, so Genji gave a small tilt of his head as acknowledgement. 

“It didn’t go well, I take it?”

McCree huffed and adjusted his hat. “Went about how I thought it would.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Were you waiting’ for me?”

“I was meditating.” Genji stood. “I just happened to choose a spot near where you would be.”

McCree chuckled. “Is that right? Well I appreciate it either way. It’s always good to see ya.” 

His smile faded quickly. “Though I think I’m gonna go blow off some steam in the practice range. You can come if you want but I can’t promise I’ll be good company.”

“No, no, I won’t interrupt you. I was supposed to meet my brother a...a few minutes ago.”

“few minutes? Well I'd hate to make you more late.” McCree smirked. “See you around.” With a small nod the gunslinger walked off, leaving Genji trying his best to ignore the weighted feeling in his heart.

He forced himself to shake it off while he sat with Hanzo, facing the gentle sea below them. Hanzo gave an impression of a calm adult but the sea of rage underneath was clear. His pride had worn down over the years but it was still there in the way he held himself and the way he spoke.

“You’re late.”

Not surprising those were the first words out of Hanzo’s mouth in their shared native tongue. The tone was neutral at least, with none of the chastisement Genji once had expected from him on almost a nightly basis.

“My apologies, brother.” 

Hanzo still tensed at the term, but at least he wasn’t denying the truth of it. A small victory. 

“You were waiting for the cowboy?” Hanzo asked, the last word dripping with sarcasm. Genji was slightly taken aback. He’d thought the two were getting along. An odd development but not an unwelcome one. Then again, Hanzo had never been known for being open with his feelings.

“Yes, he was still discussing things with Winston. I simply wasn’t paying enough attention to the time.”

“ ‘Discussing’ or arguing?”

Genji glanced towards his brother without turning his head. Hanzo’s expression gave away nothing.

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose not.”

There was no more discussion of McCree after that, just the usual silence occasionally interrupted with small talk. Hanzo asked small questions, trying to poke into Genji’s life without putting on any real pressure. Genji appreciated the curiosity. He didn’t ask many questions of his own. He wasn’t sure he’d get real answers if he did. 

Still, as superficial as their conversations were, for once there were no awkward moments or a sudden downturn in mood. It was only a couple hours of one night but it left Genji with a spark of cautious hope all the same. 

***

McCree stood outside Genji’s room decked out in full attire, including not just his usual anachronisms but Peacekeeper at his side and his armor strapped to his chest, only partially concealed by his serape. The outfit of somebody with no intention of sticking around.

The cowboy’s fist was poised over Genji’s door, before he dropped it with a sigh, raised it, then dropped it again.

He wanted to say goodbye. 

Genji stood just around the corner, knowing he should show himself. He may be a ninja, but McCree was...McCree deserved his attention at the very least. 

“Leaving already?”

Genji froze at the familiar voice of his brother. Hanzo had appeared on McCree’s other side, apparently disappointed by the lack of reaction from the gunslinger. McCree had stiffened for a moment, but quickly relaxed into his normal friendly persona, even smiling at Hanzo with a raised eyebrow.

“Well ain’t this a surprise. Didn’t know you’d still be up Hanzo.”

“I could say the same.”

McCree shrugged. “Guess you ain’t the only one with a bit of insomnia now and then.”

Was McCree’s accent stronger than usual? Was he trying to play Hanzo? Even in his current state, Hanzo was a dangerous enemy to make. McCree knew how to work people, but even one misstep with Hanzo…

Of course there was nothing to worry about, really. It wasn’t as if they were going to kill each other. Right?

Genji tensed and crouched, ready to move.

“Insomnia? Then you aren’t leaving to chase Talon?”

“What?” A perfect mix of confusion and amusement, the look of someone who wasn’t sure what was going on but had the vague impression they were being messed with.

“You been drinking’ or something Hanzo?”

For a fraction of a moment Hanzo’s face darkened. So McCree had gathered that much about Hanzo and was feigning ignorance, something that wouldn’t fool Hanzo at all. But he would say nothing about it. McCree was trying to make Hanzo emotional and give himself the upper hand, but how well could it work if Hanzo didn’t give in?

“The selection here is too poor for me to waste my time,” Hanzo scoffed, “I was more concerned with how insomnia influenced you to use giving me a tour as an excuse to gather data from your own teammates and then abandon them with it in the middle of the night.”

McCree bristled, but Genji couldn’t tell if the emotion was real or not.

“The hell are you talking about?”

Hanzo sighed. “Must we do this? I saw you open files on your...leaders computer while ‘showing’ me the base, I’ve seen you arguing with him and the others over the next actions of your organization. You think Talon is an important target. They disagree, to an extent. The...your leader has forbidden any actions against Talon without his permission. You left once before because of a difference of opinion, correct? It’s reasonable to expect you would do it again.”

The anger was real this time, but McCree hardly showed it, hiding behind a sharp smile that held no warmth.

“Well look at you. Maybe I underestimated you a little, archer. Won’t happen again.” His accent had returned to normal, lightly coated with a southern drawl instead of drowning in it. The smile faded and his voice took on a dangerous tone.

“Just want to make one thing clear though. I don’t care much about your opinion, but whatever I’m doing, I’m not betraying the people here, so- “

Hanzo cut him off. “I said nothing about betrayal. Do you listen when other people talk? You’re using this information to track Talon, correct?”

McCree just nodded.

“Then I wish to join you.”

McCree choked on a laugh, throwing a hand over his mouth to stifle it. Hanzo waited it out stoically, showing no reaction to McCree’s shaking shoulders.

“Well,” McCree breathed, “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.”

“You’ve also seen my skills with stealth and my bow.” Hanzo held up a hand, stopping McCree’s next comment before he could start.

“I only came here because Talon threatened me and Genji. I have no desire to play hero, but I would like to see Talon out of power and ensure our safety.”

“You’re acting like I’ve got a full proof plan Hanzo. I’m just a man with a gun.”

“Despite the appearance you try to give, I know you aren’t stupid. And I can make up for your shortcomings.”

“You’re serious.” McCree seemed too amazed at the situation to be upset at the insult. “You really want the two of us to go up against a terrorist organization.”

“You were originally planning to do it alone.” Hanzo pointed out.

“I was gonna start small.” McCree replied defensively.

“Well this will make your small start go faster.”

They stared each other down. McCree moved first, looking Hanzo up and down critically, as if appraising him. Obviously a stall tactic but Hanzo said nothing, giving McCree the time he wanted. 

“Well at least you’re prepared. Hard to say no to.” In an unusually vulnerable gesture McCree pulled his famous hat off his head, running his human hand through the already mussed hair. “Not sure how much Genji’ll appreciate me helping his long lost brother disappear again.”

A misstep by McCree. Genji could almost see Hanzo reach a breaking point. A small one, but a breaking point nonetheless. His eyes snapped to Genji and Hanzo nodded in his direction.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself.”

Of course he’d known. Genji had allowed to himself to be too absorbed in the conversation. Even at his worst Hanzo had sensed Genji back in Hanamura, of course he’d sense him here.

No point in hiding now. Genji strolled up to the stunned cowboy casually, pretending not to notice the hint of red in the other man’s cheeks. 

“How long do you plan to be gone?”

Slowly, McCree returned his hat to his head, using the brim to cast a shadow over his eyes. 

“Dunno,” He finally answered, avoiding direct eye contact, “depends on how it goes I guess.”

There it was, the tightness in his chest, the heavy feeling in his gut. He’d danced around this ever since the recall, and now he was going to lose his chance completely. 

Unless he made a decision.

“When are we leaving then?”

The way McCree did a double take was almost cartoonish. Hanzo’s surprise was much more subtle, and based on his expression already had turned to suspicious curiosity. 

“What, am I just taking the whole damn base with me? At this point may as well call it an official mission!”

“An American outlaw, an assassin, and a ninja thought to be a decade dead hardly screams official, my friend.”

McCree huffed. “This isn’t how I pictured my night going.”

“Life rarely goes how we expect,” Hanzo muttered. 

“Look at it this way,” Genji said, far too brightly, “Now you don’t have to give an awkward goodbye.”

McCree just threw up his hands.

“Alright, you win, I lose. Just don’t blame me if it backfires.” Still, despite the exasperation in his voice, the cowboy smiled.

“Let's go take down Talon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You ever want to set your entire computer on fire to get rid of one thing.  
> >me with this chapter


	6. Back Into The Mix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree travels with the Shimada brothers. It doesn't suit them.

McCree leaned towards his friend, keeping his voice as low as possible just in case the lack of a glow coming from the visor meant the man was asleep.

“You know Genji, I ain’t here to mess up your reunion with your brother, and I don’t intend to make connecting with him harder than it has to be; I know how important it is to you.”

The visor flicked on, emitting a dull glow. Genji’s slight head tilt towards McCree was the only indication the cyborg was actually listening.

“I’ve gotta say though, no matter how hard it is to hear; your brother is a goddamn diva.”

Genji’s snort was loud enough to attract Hanzo’s attention despite the ear buds clearly intended to cut him off from the rest of the plane. They were the only three people in first class on this red-eye flight, but if Hanzo felt better putting down these little barriers, well, McCree wouldn’t mock him for it.

Not to his face, at least.

Genji choked back the rest of his laughter, quickly returning to superficial state of calmness. 

“You have a point,” he muttered to McCree, “but he also paid for our seats.”

McCree did have to concede that much. He didn’t want to think too much about how the man cast out by his own family, spending years of his life off the grid, managed to maintain such a large reservoir of money, but sometimes it was hard for his mind not to wander. Of course, Hanzo had been the one to foot the bill once McCree had laid out his suspicions and first step in his admittedly vague plans. It was both a relief and a little disappointing how easy it was. At least McCree and Genji got to play an old game of bluff and distraction to get their weapons on the plane. McCree missed having a partner for those kinds of things more than he’d realized. 

Hanzo had just glared, probably annoyed they didn’t just bribe a security guard or something. He seemed like the type.

All in all, it had gone way too smooth and inevitably would fall apart very soon, but in the meantime, McCree would enjoy what would probably be the last first class seat he’d ever get.

McCree never liked being so dressed down, missing all of his usual clothing pieces except his hat and boots (with spurs removed) on top of having no weapon or body armor. Everything had been snuck onto the plane one way or the other, but still.

After a few minutes of silence he pulled the brim of his hat down, tilting it enough so he could lay his head back on the seat. Years of experience sleeping in shitty places were good for something, at least.

Despite his efforts, though, it wasn’t a comfortable sleep. Turbulence constantly shook him, every bump pulling him back to wakefulness. He jumped every time he accidentally leaned too far to one side, especially if he ended up against Genji. Even the loose hoodie Genji wore did nothing to soften the feel of the metal. It was frustrating how hard this was. Apparently sleeping on a moving train was fine, but a plane was just a step too far. 

Neither of the Shimada brothers seemed to have the same problems. Both were unnaturally still during the flight, showing no hints of restlessness or discomfort. Genji, McCree could understand, but Hanzo? Was the guy a cyborg too?

It was a relief when the finally landed, a relief to know he was that much closer to having his feet on solid ground again. The hard part was getting all of their stuff back. McCree lumbered around with a confused look on his face, loudly chatting up employees and asking mindless and sometimes downright stupid questions while Genji snuck through staff-only doors.

“Are you sure they’re here?” Genji asked once they’d finally slipped out of the airport and away from the suffocating crowd. McCree blinked against the sun, the light glinting off of glass and sooth metal everywhere he looked. Everything was new and sleek and modern and Jesus Christ did everything have to be made with a reflective surface? There wasn’t a speck of dirt anywhere, not on the buildings, the cars, the people, nothing. Not even the sidewalks, made of a light colored concrete that gleamed.

“I never am. Guess if they aren’t at least I can cross this place off my bucket list.”

“This was on your bucket list?”

“No.”

A moment of silence as they searched for Hanzo, who was already hailing a cab.

“I’ve been here before,” Genji quietly admitted, “but I did not like it much. Even here, I felt like an outcast.”

McCree had nothing to say to that.

***

“Junkrat and Roadhog?” Hanzo had snorted, his opinions crystal clear in that one sound. “I’ve heard quite a bit about them. Do they even have the capability to build something like you saw in London?”

“From what I understand, bombs are kind of their thing,” McCree had replied. They had sat waiting at the airport closest to the watchpoint in the dead of night. It was eerily empty, with the few other passengers mostly asleep or distracted with earbuds blocking out other sounds. Still, they made sure to keep their voices quiet.

“Besides,” McCree continued, “It’s the only lead I’ve got. If they really did work with Talon, then they might know something useful. Best way to find out is to ask, in my experience.”

“Will finding them be so easy, though?” Genji added.

“What happened to all that bluster from before?” McCree teased. “Too tough for you?”

Genji huffed.

“I have you dragging me down, cowboy. It’s difficult to sneak up on people when you jingle.”

“You wound me.” He glanced at Hanzo, who seemed ready to yell at them both. “In all seriousness, finding them isn’t my biggest concern. They ain’t exactly subtle. If they were, there wouldn’t be fucking articles about them on a weekly basis.”

“So you’re sure they’re in Numbani?” Hanzo asked. McCree shrugged.

“Guess we’ll find out, won’t we, archer?”

***

Numbani was a city allergic to straight lines. Nothing had hard lines or edges, favoring rounded off corners instead, smooth curves instead of sharp turns. Everything felt fluid and kinetic, the kind of city that wouldn’t let you stand still.

They’d spent their morning separately, searching the nooks and crannies and few dark alleys they could find, hoping for a hint of the junkers. McCree enjoyed playing the part of a tourist, acting stupid, performing a script that never failed to please. It would have been better if he’d gotten something real out of it, but at least it made time go by a little easier. It was always nice to able to put on his serape again. Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, it had become a comfort to him in recent years, more of a barrier between him and the world than any piece of cloth that old had any right to be. 

A few pieces of his wardrobe got left behind, but the serape did the best job of covering his body armor and peacekeeper strapped to his side, on top of giving him that true American tourist look.

They’d stolen short range comms from the watchpoint to help them stay in touch. McCree felt a tinge of guiltiness, but it had been the only good option. These were specially designed to not be traced, only working over short distances so that even if they were hacked, the person hacking would have to be less than a mile away. In a city this big the distance limitations were a little annoying, but better than Winston being able to track them down with a few keystrokes.

Angela’s face popped up in his mind, tight with anger and lined with disappointment. McCree quickly pushed it away, along with every other thought of the watchpoint.

He tried to focus on his food. In theory it was nothing special, just your average hamburger, but it was one of the best burgers he’d ever had in his life. It wasn’t what he was used to, stacked with several ingredients he would never have though to stick between buns on his own. It had been a little on the expensive side, but food was one of the only things he had to pay for with his own money here. Hanzo had even bought their hotel rooms for them, though McCree suspected it was more out of convenience than anything. It was as good a time as any to splurge. Besides, he liked places with outside seating like this. Gave him a chance to just relax and watch the world go by.

The comms crackled to life (a sign of their age, though that only made them that much harder to track).

“Mmm?” McCree responded.

“McCree?” Genji, then. McCree swallowed his food as fast as he could.

“Mm, ‘s me.”

“Where are you?” Amusement tinted his tone.

“Burger place.” McCree managed to say. “Called, um…well is starts with an S.”

“Give me a second.”

Genji didn’t bother to shut the comm off, so McCree just listened to the noise as Genji looked for a good spot. Logically, McCree knew he was climbing, probably looking for a decent vantage point. He could hear the wind increasing in the background as he gained height, the distant sounds of his metal limbs scrambling against the metal and glass surfaces every damn building in this city was made out of. He focused on those sounds, ignoring the grunting in his ear, so close and clear, Genji could have been right there up against him.

McCree desperately cast his eyes around. There had to be something to look at, something else to focus on. Anything, really.

Nothing caught his attention. It was an eternity before Genji went quiet, though it was soon followed by “Ah, there you are. I’ll be there soon.”

“I hear ya,” McCree answered. Then he cut the connection.At least the food was still good.

He’d finished by the time Genji got there, giving a small wave as he lightly jogged across the street. McCree waved back, motioning to the empty chair on the other side of his small table. McCree had very carefully pushed the chair over so it wouldn’t be next to him before Genji arrived, but there was no reason to tell his friend that.

“Everything alright?” He asked, in what he hoped was a normal, casual voice.

Genji rested his head on one hand, elbow leaning on the table. McCree recognized this head tilt as a small frown.

“Yes. I haven’t had any luck though. I’m guessing you haven’t either?”

McCree shook his head.

“No. Kind of surprising, I was sure this was where they were headed. They make noise everywhere they go, there’s no way the junkers could be here and be so _quiet_.”

“Well, they only make noise once the strike. Perhaps they just haven’t found a target yet.”

“Or just not found a good time,” McCree agreed. He frowned at the table. Finding people was the one thing he was supposed to be good.

“We’ve been here for half a day, Jesse. At least wait to brood until nighttime.”

McCree’s head snapped up. Ah, back to the smiling head tilt.

“I’ll have you know I’ve never brooded in my life. I have deep, thoughtful moments on occasion, but I never brood.”

“I’ve spent more time than I’d like brooding in the past, McCree. You cannot hide it from me.”

“I’m tellin’ you, I don’t brood. Couldn’t if I wanted to.”

“Oh of course, my apologies.”

“Hmm. You need to work on your sarcasm.”

“Agree to disagree, my friend.”

McCree gave a small _harrumph_ as his final response.

“I wonder if that brother of yours found anything. Hasn’t touched base all day.”

Genji didn’t respond, lapsing into silence. They didn’t get into a fight when he wasn’t looking, did they?

“Probably not,” McCree continued, suddenly self-conscious, “but I guess it doesn’t matter right now. Just hoping we get wind of them before anything bad goes down.”

Genji finally lifted his head from where it had rested in his hand, turning to face McCree properly.

“No doubt he will find us when he’s found something. I don’t think he wishes to take any unnecessary personal risks for this.”

McCree frowned at the clinical tone.

“You two doing alright? As alright as you can, at least.”

More silence. McCree silently cursed his complete lack of tact. This wasn’t exactly the best time and place for a conversation like this, if Genji even wanted to have it.

No, they were friends, and adults. If Genji didn’t want to talk about it he could just say so and they’d move on. McCree hadn’t done anything wrong, and he needed to stop fretting over every word like a teenager.

A moment later Genji spoke, stopping McCree right as he was about to apologize.

“Truthfully, I don’t know. Sometimes I see my brother in him, a chance that we can reconnect, and sometimes I wonder if we will ever feel like more than passing strangers again. It’s nothing that can be solved in the moment, however much I’d like it to be. But thank you for worrying about me, Jesse.”

Any words about to come out of his mouth died instantly in his throat. More than ever McCree wished the visor wasn’t in the way, wished he could see Genji’s face, his expressions, just for a moment. Such a small thing, but it hit like a punch, too kind, too sincere for someone like McCree. For a moment, he could hear Angela’s voice in his head, chiding his inaction, ripping his excuses to shreds with a few sharp words and even worse looks.

No, as well meaning as Angela was, he never should have let it get this bad. Even years later, he could remember Reyes’s words from when he found out.

A scream cut through the air. McCree was standing before it even fully registered. One shared look with his friend and they were off, bolting through the startled crowd that was quickly turning to a panicked one.

Genji was faster, by a considerable margin. McCree waved him forward, a silent promise that he’d catch up. Eventually.

“Ninjas,” McCree muttered to himself between heavy breaths. He wasn’t that old yet, dammit, this shouldn’t be so hard! In the blackwatch days he could nearly keep pace with genji in a straightforward race, body armor and all. It wasn’t even that long ago!

Explosions pushed the thoughts back. They were small, relatively, if he heard them this close without feeling anything. He’d been around more big explosions than most people-you felt that shit to the core.

The last few straggling screaming civilians rushed by, and he knew he’d found them. Smoke curled into the air, drifting above the debris being flung around the street. He made one last push around a corner, and saw the entirety of the destructive chaos in full.

It was exactly how he’d pictured it, Junkrat and Roadhog in the middle of the chaos they’d created, in front of a now ruined building with a name he didn’t recognize across the front. He understood the “BANK” part though. Fire and smoke swirled around this scrawny rat of a man while he cackled, hopping through twisted metal and broken glass and cracked bits of concrete scattered on the ground.

The big one (somehow even more of an oversized giant than McCree had imagine), grunted as he yanked back on a chain, huge and terrifying as it ripped a monstrous rust covered (God he hoped it was rust) hook out of a car door. The door ripped from its hinges, metal screeching in protest as it twisted and bent in ways it was never designed to. The big man let out a noise, deep and unsettling, that McCree recognized as some sort of laugh.

Any sane human being would turn tail, and McCree liked to think he’d developed a pretty good instinct for self-preservation over the years. Then again, these junkers didn’t even wear shirts, and McCree was packing Peacekeeper. Even the big guy wouldn’t survive a bullet through the heart.

Before he could draw, they both turned to look at him.

“I’m behind, I’ll distract,” Genji said through comms, making McCree jump in surprise, “and give you a good shot.”

The scrawny one laughed, the same maniacal laugh McCree had heard on the news. He hoisted up his weapon, a makeshift launcher cobbled together from scraps, and fired. The grenade sailed in a perfect arc, taking a moment to enjoy the view at the top before curving back down to meet McCree, it’s creepy painted face smiling down at him.

McCree cursed, loudly, stumbling back as he desperately pulled out Peacekeeper. It was in an awkward position now that he wasn’t used to, and for a moment he wondered if his own clumsiness was going to get him killed.

A quiet sound, one he’d heard a million times in practice ranges and out in the field, whooshed by. He was too slow for it, stuck in place as the grenade exploded mid air. The light was blinding, searing his eyes before he closed them and threw up his arms, giving himself a small amount of protection from the heat and force of the blast. He could practically feel his eyebrows singe. He grit his teeth against the pain, again fumbling for his weapon as he tried to crack one eye open.

He heard, more than saw, Genji descend on the scene, his soles scraping against the ground as he jumped and dodged and ran circles around his opponents. Metal clashed as the thin blade of his sword blocked the heavy attack of Roadhog’s chain.

McCree opened his eyes just in time to see Junkrat rushing away from Genji, and pulling something new out while Roadhog had him distracted.

“Duck!” McCree yelled, Peacekeeper finally out as he took aim and fired without any thought beyond his target. Both of the junkers turned towards him, giving Genji a chance to drop to the ground.

Another explosion, this time from the explosive Junkrat had been holding. McCree closed his eyes this time, but he heard the cry of pain from junkrat, and a noise of surprise from Roadhog, coupled with heavy footsteps as he was forced back.

Sirens wailed in the distance, finally catching up to the destruction. Christ, Winston was going to be pissed when he saw this on the news. Especially when he realized McCree just killed-

Wait, why did he hear laughing _above him_?

Was Junkrat _flying_?

Maybe it was more like being thrown, the way he arced through the air, somehow still laughing. He gave a small wave and a wink when he noticed McCree before disappearing behind the building he’d just robbed.

A more familiar cry of pain grabbed his attention, and he turned just in time to duck out of the way as Genji flew back, crashing into the wall next to him.

McCree turned Peacekeeper on Roadhog but he was already leaving, disappearing down an alley in the direction of his partner in crime. He wasn’t fast by any means. It would be nothing to run him down and take out a leg to make sure he couldn’t get any further. He could finally get the info he wanted, the entire reason he’d risked his new place with overwatch in the first place. Without Talon, Overwatch had a fighting chance in the world again. With it…

He shoved Peacekeeper back in it’s holster and bent down by Genji’s side.

“Hey, you there? Can you hear me?”

“…fine…” Genji muttered. There had been other words around it, too soft for McCree to hear. Genji was trying to get up, but was taking too long, wobbling as he fought for an upright position.

“We gotta go,” McCree said flatly. He grabbed his friend’s arm and yanked him up, ignoring the grunt of pain as he did. It wasn’t a scream, so that was a good sign. He pulled the arm over his shoulder and wrapped his free hand around Genji’s waist and started moving as fast as he could. Genji stumbled along next to him. He seemed fine, physically, as far as McCree could tell. If it was more though-he’d have to call Overwatch. He’d have to call Angela.

Luckily, with bystanders long gone, it was easy to make it around another corner, going a different direction from both their new friends and the sirens, now nearly on top of them. He could hear the vehicles pulling onto the scene. He pushed himself to go faster. They were out of sight, but just barely. A little further and they could stop in an empty alley or something and take stock, maybe contact the missing Shimada who didn’t know how to use his damn comms.

“ _HALT._ ”

McCree froze. Slowly, he raised his head. He’d been so distracted, looking at Genji, looking behind, looking at the ground-he never noticed a centaur robot sneaking up from the front.

Or something like that, at least. It was huge, as tall as Roadhog if not taller, shining bright in tones of yellow and green and brown. It stood on four legs, now all spread apart in a stiff stance, holding it still as one massive arm reached forward in a universal ‘stop’ signal. It’s head bent down to look at the two men, horns on either side pointing down with it.

The robotic voice had a feminine lilt, but this wasn’t like any omnic McCree had ever seen. Was this some freaky police robot they had here?

The eyes shone a warning red light, but dimmed and shifted back to yellow the more it looked at them. She spoke again, though this time her voice took on more of a curious tone than a demanding one.

“Jesse McCree; outlaw. Reward, sixty million dollars. The reward would make up for Efi’s grant money.”

“Hey, come on now!”

It wasn’t exactly a non-extradition country, but _still_.

“…right” Genji muttered. McCree felt his friend’s weight shift off of him. He gave a small nod.

“Yeah you got me,” he called out to the robot, “but I need some help with my friend here, he’s hurt bad.”

“The police can take him to the hospital when they come for you,” She responded automatically, sounding entirely too happy about it for a robot menace.

“He needs help now. Not sure I can carry him for much longer.”

Finally, she hesitated, just for a moment.

“I am programmed to help.” She finally answered. She moved forward cautiously, all four legs moving in synchronization. It was unsettling to watch, but McCree held his ground until she stood just a couple yards away.

Genji pulled his arm off McCree’s shoulder. McCree took the hint and jumped away to the right while Genji flung himself left.

“ _Stop!_ ” The robot yelled, but she got confused, turning back and forth between her two targets as they ran past her, sticking to opposite sides of the street even as they ran in the same direction.

“You’re not getting away!”

A strange sound filled the air. McCree turned to see an odd blob flying through the air, a collection of strange colors more than anything solid. A second later he was yanked to the side, hard, as the strange colors seemed to reach out, grab him and pull.

They pulled Genji too, throwing them so hard they crashed into each other. That much metal slamming into him so fast _hurt_. Even worse, they were both on the ground again in a tangled mess while the robot hurried towards them.

Again, McCree waited until she was close, one last trick up his sleeve. Or hiding under his serape, at least.

A flash bang, one of three he’d managed to sneak onto the plane with him, flew into the robot’s face. She cried out in surprise more than anything, but McCree didn’t look, instead focusing on Genji as he once again pulled the man to his feet. This time, though, Genji had more control, not needing McCree’s support as they ran again.

He didn’t hear sounds of pursuit right away. The flash bang must have worked.

When they reached the end of the street, Genji grabbed his serape and pulled. McCree followed without question, letting Genji lead them through the streets. With everything that happened with the junkers, people barely even seemed to notice them.

Finally, they stopped in some alley, going all the way to the back, behind some suspiciously clean dumpsters before allowing themselves a moment of rest.

“You-you ok?” McCree panted. He checked himself over as he asked, but there didn’t seem to be anything serious. Some bruises, some singed hair, and a lot of dirt and grime from the first fight.

“I am. I only got thrown off balance. I’m sorry, McCree, I was careless.”

McCree laughed, looking straight at Genji’s visor until he was sure his friend was looking back.

“It wasn’t your fault, don’t go all martyr on me. Honestly I thought an explosion would hurt those guys, not just give one of them an escape route. Not the kind of thing you expect a person to even survive.”

Genji nodded.

“This creates a problem for us, though. We were seen at the scene of the crime. We may not have the luxury of looking for them again at our own pace. We may not be able to stay in this city long.”

“Yeah well I doubt the junkers will be here long either. They were a lot more visible than us.” McCree pulled off his hat, running a hand through his hair to help shake out any dirt. “Christ,” he added.

Genji stared at him, unmoving.

“Something on your mind?” McCree asks. Genji often went still when deep in thought, so maybe it would be an actual plan.

“What? Oh, nothing. I mean. We should find Hanzo.”

McCree frowned. The same thought had crossed his mind before. The limited range comms had seemed like such a good idea when they were leaving, but now they were just a hinderance.

“Yeah. Hopefully he can get a refund on the hotel.”

That earned him a small chuckle. McCree appreciated it, even as he made a futile attempt to open the comms and see if Hanzo was in range.

“McCree here. You anywhere nearby, Hanzo?”

Silence, like he’d predicted. He sighed.

“Ok then, guess we should-“

“What is your position?” He sounded far away, comm crackling like it had been damaged, but that superior tone was unmistakable.

“Uh-you know what, I think we’re behind that burger place.”

“What? Nevermind, I need you to come to my location. Is-is Genji with you?”

McCree pretended to not notice the awkward hesitation. “Yeah. Where are you?”

Hanzo gave them coordinates in a brisk voice before going quiet again. McCree frowned at Genji.

“I don’t really know this city and I didn’t exactly bring my phone.”

“Well I’m not a phone.”

“What? Not even a little?” McCree teased. Genji just tilted his head in that way he always did.

“Wait here.”

He stood up, climbing on top of the dumpster, then using it as a launching point to jump onto a wall, going back and forth between the smooth surfaces until he’d reached the top and left McCree’s sight.

“Always such a show off,” He muttered as if Genji would hear. He rotated his limbs while he waited, making sure everything still functioned properly. It wasn’t long before Genji dropped back into the alley. It was hard not to notice the scuffs and dings now in his armor; at least he could get it fixed up when he went back to Overwatch.

Genji held out his hand palm up, showing a small phone, glowing dully in the shadowed alley as it showed a local map.

“Where the hell did you get this?”

Genji shrugged. McCree decided he didn’t have a right to push any further. He’d done far worse in the past.

“You already put the coordinates in?”

“Of course. It’s not far.”

McCree nodded. He’d guessed that much just from the fact that Hanzo had been able to contact them at all.

“As long as it’s away from the police, let's go.”

He was happy to let Genji lead the charge on this while he kept an eye turned over his shoulder. Honestly Genji blended in to the crowd here much better, but McCree didn’t like the idea of having to split up. Hanzo didn’t blend in great either though, did he? In a city like this, full of technology and robots and, perhaps more importantly, cameras everywhere you looked, how the hell were they gonna escape?

The coordinates brought them to a completely unassuming building bereft of any identifying marks. They slid up to a side door, McCree wrenching the handle open. Or trying to. The door shook, but refused to open.

“Come on,” He hissed. His hand hovered over Peacekeeper, usually his best option when dealing with locked doors.

“Hanzo,” Genji called, an awkward mix between attempting a whisper and a shout at the same time, resulting in something close to normal volume.

It only took a few seconds for the door to open. It was stopped short by Hanzo barely halfway. He glared at the newcomers but stepped slightly out of the way to allow them to pass. McCree gave him a once over as he did, noting a few streaks of dirt spread across his clothes.

The inside was as bare as the outside, decorated mostly by balls of dust. The small windows had long since been covered, keeping the space dark. There was the outline of Hanzo’s arrows up against the wall near the door, and a pile of belongings pushed against the opposite wall.

Belongings that probably came from a wanted Australian criminal tied to a folding chair in the middle of the floor.

“What the f-”

The door slammed shut, cutting him off. The criminal known as Junkrat squirmed against his restraints at the noise, his loud yelling barely muffled by the makeshift gag around the lower half of his mouth. 

“Son of a bitch,” McCree breathed. He looked to Genji, vainly hoping the smooth cyborg mask would give him some sort of guidance. Instead, Genji shrugged, maybe just as unsure as he was. 

This wasn’t the first time he’d been in a situation like this, not by a long shot. And not one of those memories conjured up anything remotely positive.

“You wanted to ask questions, correct?” Hanzo muttered, insufferably smug. “Now is your chance, cowboy.”

McCree scowled, refusing to look at Hanzo. He glanced towards Junkrat, who didn’t seem to give two shits about anything but breaking free. There were a thousand questions about how Hanzo had even managed this, but McCree filed them away for later. 

Somehow, like always, McCree’s gaze fell back on Genji. His body ached, his bruises hurt, the cuts stung. This was nothing but a momentary break from the utter chaos of the fights they’d run from in the city. He had no control here, no time for preparation. He didn’t even know where Junkrat’s partner was. His nerves were stretched too taunt to be dealing with this, one catastophy after another. 

Genji returned the look, though if he saw any of McCree’s turmoil, it didn’t show. McCree wasn’t sure what it looked like, the way he stared at his old friend, the mute conversation that passed between them; or maybe that was in his own mind. 

Muffled yells once again broke through the stagnation, dragging McCree back into reality. They didn’t have long.

A decision formed in his mind. He hoped it got through, somehow, to Genji. They hadn’t truly worked together for years. Things had changed, their methods had changed, _they_ had changed. 

And yet.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.” McCree spun on a heel, swaggering to the Australian who glared at him from behind restraints. He grinned widely as he stepped up, knowing the way it threw people off, unnerved them like a predator come to hunt. 

He could feel Genji hover just behind him, a constant presence-or threat, depending on the view. Hanzo was quick to follow his lead, making McCree nearly curious enough to look back and see just what terrifying expression Hanzo had picked. Nearly.

With one hand he unceremoniously pulled off the gag, dropping the now less than pristine cloth to the ground. Junkrat barked out a laugh, clearly ready to start ranting or insulting or whatever it is he did. McCree didn’t let him get that far.

“Junkrat, right? I’ve heard of you. You and your buddy have made quite a name for yourselves. In fact, there’s a pretty sizable reward for bringing you fellas in.”

The man froze, retorts immediately forgotten. McCree almost felt bad for him. He knew the feeling. If they didn’t get out soon and he ran into that robot again, he might have to feel it all over.

Junkrat laughed nervously.

“Hey, maybe we could, uh, work something out, mate?”

Well, that was suspiciously simple and easy.

“Yeaaaaah sure, we’ll see. Maybe first we can start with a couple of questions. Namely about your bosses back in London.”

McCree planted himself in front of Junkrat, holding the same wide smile while he waited.

“What? Bosses? What are you on about?”

There were a lot of ways to go about this. McCree knew more than he’d like about gathering intel, but he’d already thrown out most of his options before even opening his mouth. They were in an unsecure location, no back up, limited time, and no real leverage. There wasn’t even time for mind games beyond a few basic intimidation tactics. Being direct was his best, and probably only option.

“The bomb Talon asked you to make in London. Ringing any bells?”

The other man cackled, more like a villain in a cartoon than a real person.

“Them? We didn’t make shite for them! They thought they could pull one over on Junkrat and Roadhog, but they were wrong!”

“You did something,” McCree insisted, “you literally left your signature on it. You did _something_ which means you talked to _somebody_. And you’re gonna tell me everything about them.” 

He let his hand drift to Peacekeeper while he talked. It was in too awkward a position to be a natural move, but maybe that just made the threat more effective. Junkrat’s eyes went wide, flicking between the weapon and the door.

“Hey, hey! Come _on._ I said we could work something out, didn’t I? So let’s work something out!”

“Jesse!”

Genji’s desperate tone was the only warning they got. In a moment, the door exploded inward, chunks of wood flying into the room at deadly speeds and disturbing the layers of dust enough to make a mini dust bowl in the center of the floor. McCree was lucky, this time, to not take any hits, veering to the side and out of the way more smoothly than he might have expected. 

The move pushed him away from Junkrat and closer to the Shimada brothers. Neither seemed hurt, and both immediately took to fighting stances, though Hanzo had to awkwardly duck to the side to grab his bow. McCree pulled his own weapon out, aiming it straight into the now open doorway. 

He’d expected daylight to stream in. He even squinted a little in anticipation, determined to not to be blinded right before an attack again. Instead, only slivers of light managed to squeeze in, fighting for space around the edges of the hulking mass in front of them. 

Roadhog ducked inside, massive gun in one hand, giant hook in the other. He paused at the sight of the three men facing him (apparently ignoring Junkrat’s stream of delighted rambling). 

The three men stared back.

“What...do you want?”

Roadhog’s voice boomed in the small space. It reverberated through the walls and floors, deep and rasping through the thick pig mask. 

It was not what he expected. There was something unsure about Roadhog, almost thoughtful in how he considered them. It was unnerving. 

McCree could feel Genji and Hanzo shifting next to him, ready for a fight. Waiting for the moment to strike. 

Instead, McCree cleared his throat. 

“We’re looking for Talon. Preferably the head honchos. Heard you spent some time around them a while ago. Thought maybe you and your friend here would know something we don’t.”

McCree could never really decide if he hated or loved these moments. The ridiculous freeze frame before a potential fight, the moment when they just watched each other, debating and considering their options, weighing skills up against each other, cataloguing equipment and injuries, muscles tensing, all before anything had happened. The anticipation of a fight could be more intense than the fight itself, and this was no exception. 

“Annecy.”

Roadhog said the word like a breath. In a move either brave or stupid, he turned his back on McCree in the Shimada’s, wielding his hook in a surprisingly delicate way as he sliced his smaller friend free. 

“Lets go.” Roadhog said before Junkrat could even open his mouth. The smaller man stopped, face dropping into an annoyed sulk, but he didn’t argue. Instead he grabbed his things, laughed like a crazy person, and ran out yelling, “You can’t defeat Junkrat and Roadhog!”

There was immediately commotion outside. This was just as unsurprising as it was concerning, and McCree knew they needed to get the hell out of dodge. There were a million things to figure out and parse through, but only one word rolled through his mind, prickling at something that might be considered familiar if he squinted at it in low light.

“What the hell is Annecy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of things I could say about issues I have with this chapter and with the overall work and how I probably should abandon it considering it's been over a year since I've updated, but if I'm being honest, the idea of abandoning this or deleting it hurts my soul. It may not be that good but I hate just leaving it unfinished forever. Unfortunately, I haven't been working on it largely because of depression/lack of motivation, so the huge amount of time it took me to put up this chapter isn't necessarily indicative of quality. While the plot is gonna basically be what i originally intended, I can't say if the writing/tone will stay consistent. At this point my main goal is just to finish. Even if the entire thing ends up being trash, finishing matters a lot to me now for really dumb personal reasons.
> 
> I don't expect anybody to actually read this anyway (literally over a year since i last updated holy shit that doesn't sound real) but if you do, I hope it's at least amusing to read. All I want out of fanfiction I read is for it to be something fun, at least. Besides it's McGenji week again, that's as good a time as any to update, right?

**Author's Note:**

> If you have questions or just want to talk about Overwatch stuff, feel free to message me at my Overwatch tumblr, @not-obsessed-with-overwatch  
> (Creative name, I know)


End file.
